Illusions of Perfection
by EvieGleek17
Summary: People say you can only work with the cards in your hand. Sounds logical, right? But what about if you had the 'Perfect' cards in your hand but some moron who shall remain nameless snatches them away and hands you a hand which is 'absolutely diabolical' at best? Yeah, pretty crap isn't it? Well then: Welcome to my once perfect, and now horrific, life. A Hummel-Anderson tale *Klaine
1. A New York Nightmare

_**Hey, so I've 'inherited' a story from someone I go to Uni with :) The Perfumed Thorn. And with 'Best Foot Forwards' going along nicely I think I'm ready to nurture this seed. I know where it's going too, as in plotted out!**_

_**Similarly to 'Best Foot Forwards' expect regular updates! All of this chapter is what the former author wrote although I've added/changed bits; don't worry I was given full artistic licence. Warning: Not all chapters will be as long as this, expect between 4-6,000 word updates.**_

* * *

_**Evangeline Hummel-Anderson.**_

Life really is a simple thing, you're given your cake and then you eat it. Thankfully, I was born with the best cake that the big bakery in the sky had to offer: The baby daughter of two amazingly, wonderful, perfect daddies. I mean 'Gay Daddies' are so much better than normal parents; they can protect you like 'normal' daddies and then give all the 'emotional support' that a Mom would; it's like 2 for the price of 1. How can I phrase this? Gay Daddies are like Luis Vuitton in the parenting world, the Vera Wang to the Wal-Mart. So now just factor in the fact that I have the best Daddies in the whole world and well it doesn't take long to realise my life is actually perfect. No beyond perfect is what my life is, and if I could think of a word right now that embodied that: Then you can bet your bottom dollar I'd be using it.

Some people probably wouldn't agree with me; like some of these mentally incompetent, narrow minded idiots who spout homophobic propaganda may say that the recipient of gay parenting, me, will have a screw loose and probably try and incite the Armageddon by throwing 'We Love Gay Parties' or something equally ridiculous. Or that I am not being given a 'rounded upbringing'. But these are all lies, lies I tell you. I have had the perfect childhood thanks to my perfect parents; I mean I'm already living the 'Happy Ever After'.

Oh, my parents. I knew I was forgetting something. Okay then, Daddy is none other than Kurt Hummel-Anderson, fashion extraordinaire and like Broadway phenomena: Yes, he really is that talented. At one point of his immaculate life that is lined with numerous fabulous achievements, he was working at and studying at NYADA. Fast forward five years, he is playing lead in some Broadway show while developing his first fashion line. Seriously, people say that only women can multi task? Well my Daddy definitely proves whoever said that wrong. Daddy is my 'best friend' I mean I can tell him absolutely anything and then he encourages my vibrant fashion choices and gossips about hot boys and then cooks, cleans and whatever else it is that parents do nowadays. I really love him, I mean this isn't only my Daddy but also the person who brought me my first Mulberry bag and Louboutin heels last year for my 14th Birthday and that is something extremely special.

And then, we have my Dada, and I am not ashamed to admit that I am a 'Dada's Girl' through and through. Blaine Hummel-Anderson is perfect, he is. He is my Dad, biologically too may I add, as well as being a lawyer and like the leader of the modern Gay Rights movement. I mean, he is the one who checked under my bed when I was delusional enough to think a monster lived there who wanted to drag me to the fiery pits of Hell, and then held me when I scraped my knee and thought I'd never walk again. Unless you were too dim to notice, I am slightly prone to being ever so slightly over dramatic. But yeah that is totally beside the point; Dada makes me laugh and he bends over backwards to do anything for me because I'm his 'Little Girl', the apple of his eye and all ensuing cliché's. You see, I have him wrapped around my little finger but it works both ways: Dada is the one who was able to make me eat my greens and somehow managed to curb my expenditure with my 'Emergency' credit card; I did try and explain that not having a fur coat was an emergency but that is an issue for another time I suppose.

So yeah, those are my perfect parents who are a part of my perfect life and they are in love and they love me and then we live in the most perfect city in the world: New York. Home of Broadway, New York Fashion week and then Gossip Girl and the Yankees and the list goes on. This is the city that never sleeps, the Big Apple. My home, and as the old saying goes: Home is where the heart is. In other words, welcome to the life of one Miss Evangeline Hummel-Anderson. Has a ring to it, right?

"Oi, Curly Sue: What's with the catching flies?" Internally I am beating my head against a wall; however did I forget to mention the one thing that makes my life not so perfect? The metaphorical worm in my Big Apple? The splattered bug on my windscreen of life? Meet my not so loving brother, the doting dimwit, the witless wonder that is Garrick Hummel-Anderson: Grade A Man Whore, Grade F Brother.

"Actually, I was thinking how much better the world would be if you got a VD and your little friend dropped off." I stare at my lavender walls; Daddy has a slight obsession about pastel colours. I know if I looked directly at my brother I would be possessed with the urge to punch him, his blue eyes would glitter with mirth as he smirked at me. How stereotypical of the Big Brother? Teasing the younger sibling. It astounds me that how much he looks like Daddy; he is the polar opposite in terms of personality.

"Not gonna happen kid, I always sheath my shag dagger." This boy literally makes me sick, neither Daddy nor Dada are so crude; but his mouth is like the sewer. He is like a scientific anomaly, I mean whether it be nature or nurture: There is nothing that anybody could do that would stop Garrick being a major jerk. I mean, with our parents, he should be a polite gentleman not some nymphomaniac Neanderthal.

"Please, just disappear and never come back. Oh, and when you do I'll have your NYU hoodie. Thanks and now bye." See, most people understand when they are being dismissed but God forbid anyone try and tell Garrick Hummel-Anderson what to do. He strolls into my room, uninvited, and hits me across the head with a pillow: Yes, I know that pillows are soft and that it wouldn't hurt but that doesn't stop me screaming as if he were beating me to death with some blunt object.

"GET OFF ME YOU IMBECILE THAT IS DOMESTIC ABUSE…"

"What in the name of McQueen are you two arguing about this time?" The vicious beating stops, Daddy has the 'Do Not Mess With Me' aura that well nobody messes with. Despite his almost feminine appearance, there is absolutely no question that Daddy Kurt is the disciplinarian in this household and it is only ever Dada that questions him. Although Daddy generally gets his way, since Dada is far too soft; not that I'm complaining of course. I just point at Garrick as if that is explanation enough; I mean Daddy would have seen him trying to beat me senseless. Garrick just saunters over to Daddy's side and gives him a hug, that was meant to be my move and he knew it seeing as he is laughing to himself.

"Evangeline Rachel, you need to stop being so dramatic. Now I want you to get ready, we're going for dinner tonight." And he just leaves, with that 'I am tired of my children trying to kill each other' look on his face. Well, he should blame himself for fathering the most horrid creature to ever haunt this planet. I mean, he saw him attacking me? And he thinks I'm going to do as he tells me to. Me, being dramatic? A Shakespearian monologue is bloody dramatic, not an attempt on my life. Wait till Dada hears about this, I always knew Daddy favoured Garrick cause of him being his 'biological' child which is so unfair because Dada doesn't extend the same courtesy to me. This is what it's like: Being the only girl in a house of boys, even if two are gay. Eternally out casted. That is it, well Daddy you have just called for Hunger Strike 3.0.

"…And when I said get ready, it wasn't optional Missy. We have some things to talk about." I always die right there, when Daddy's head appears around my door: Perfectly manicured eyebrow quirked in a way that says 'get dressed now…or else'. I just turn my back to him and head towards my walk in wardrobe, which is a little bit perfect too, and mutter incoherently about miscarriages of justice and the like. Daddy leaves, humming 'Defying Gravity' to himself as he goes to check on Garrick. I hear Daddy start to shout at Garrick and I can't keep the smile off of my face, so now Daddy is forgiven.

But that's not the most important thing right now, Dada has been gone for just under a month being a Superhero Lawyer somewhere across the country and his little girl has to look her best for her Dada. So the burning question is: What the Hell am I meant to wear?

* * *

**Evangeline Hummel-Anderson**

Well, Daddy is getting all irate because I am having a minor meltdown: He moans that I am taking too long. He needs to look in a mirror, he spends hours making sure his look is refined and he has always expressed the importance of fashion as some form of 'self-expression' or some nonsense like that. I am currently debating between two outfits, whereas Garrick threw on a shirt and tie and Daddy has been planning his outfit for weeks. Well days, but that is really unimportant when I am in the midst of a fashion related disaster.

"Hurry up, man. I wanna eat by the end of today." Boys. Or more aptly, Garrick, are only competent enough to think of two things: Getting fed and getting laid. Inconsiderate moose, okay then: If I go for the pink, it connotes 'Little Girl' and Dada obviously wants to see his little girl plus it makes me look tanner. Partnered with silver accessories I am sure that it would look 'Glamour Princess' which is a look I know that I can work. But it just seems too, for want of a better word, safe. Plus velvet is not the most comfortable material to wear. Okay then we have option 2 which is the latest addition to my extensive wardrobe: One of Daddy's own designs, a pastel green silk number that falls to just above my knees with some layers of chiffon: It screams elegance and 'Woman' which is how I see myself, I mean I have begun my womanly cycle so I'm hardly a child anymore.

"HURRY UP, EVA" Oh, Garrick must be hungry. Well too bad, fashion is not a thing that can be rushed so he's going to have to just wait. Plus, shouting at me is hardly going to make me want to do what he says is it? This boy needs to learn a bit more about the human psyche, Elle recently had an article regarding 'perceived authority' and well I can tell you now that my brother has 0.0% of authority over me, perceived or genuine. I hear someone knock against my doorframe, I take a deep breath.

"Dimwit, let me spell this out for you: Go away or I will stab you while you sleep"

"Well, that wasn't the greeting I was expecting. Maybe I should jump back on a plane to Chicago." Dada. Okay: Hearing my Dada's voice when he's been away at work generally results in a screaming fit and this time is no different. I run over and throw myself at him, but he caught me before I fell: As always. He kisses my cheek while I sob uncontrollably into his shirt. Great, now I'm going to have to reapply my mascara but it doesn't matter because: Dada's home.

"Dada…I missed you…Love…you…Garrick…a douche…" Yes, I am sobbing so hard I can't form sentences but the thing is I know Dada understands me and I am an emotionally charged person; most girls my age are. Dada finally manages to pull away from me and holds me at arm's length, just so he can look at me: To see if I've grown, which is ludicrous I am hardly going to grow noticeably in the three and a half weeks he's been away, but I stand there beaming like the cat that got the cream. When most people look at you, you feel as though you're being judged but not with Dada. When Blaine Anderson looks at you, you feel as though you're the only person in the world: His hazel eyes, which I was lucky enough to have inherited, shine with love and despite being 44 he still gets a dimple in his left cheek when he grins. He pulls me back into his strong arms and I do my little 'Happy Dance' which makes him chuckle and plant a sloppy kiss right on my forehead.

"Now Princess, I love you and I have missed you all so much. But if you don't get ready soon, Garrick or your Dad is likely to murder you; and what would I do without my little Honey Bee?" Dada just smiles and ruffles my hair, which I absolutely loathe unless it's him or Daddy doing it before leaning against the doorframe as I walk over to my bed and pick up the green outfit. I just waltz over to my en suite; see Dada can make me do anything.

* * *

"Eva, you look fabulous." Daddy rushes over and engulfs me in his arms; gushing about how the shade of green complements my skin tone and how my make-up looks so 'natural'. See, Dada makes me feel precious like I'm made of glass or extremely dainty. Daddy on the other hand makes me feel like a woman, striking and beautiful. Dada is smiling proudly with tears shining in his eyes, and then that sets me off. I twirl, a perfect pirouette in heels is rather difficult but I managed and both Daddy and Dada begin to clap and I bow; Garrick just looks at me like dirt, which to him I am seeing as I've kept him from food for over 3 minutes. In his eyes I probably deserve the death penalty.

"Honey Bee, you look as good as your father. Kurt that dress will be a best seller." Daddy blushes at the compliment and I just beam, praise from my Dada is like crack to me. Daddy waltzes over to Dada and gives him a chaste kiss, just a brush of the lips but I sigh and even Garrick smiles: My Daddies haven't had the easiest relationship to say the least, but anyone can see how in love they are. It is beautiful, and one of the only things me and my hare brained brother are ever able to agree on. Everyone in the Hummel-Anderson household is a little bit of a sucker from romance; I mean it really does make the world go around. Dada claps his hands to get our attention, but he has a cheeky grin on his face as Daddy wraps his arm around his waist, he knew he had our attention.

"Now, let's get our asses into gear. If we don't leave know we'll be late, and you know kids: Dad cannot tolerate lateness." He continues to grin as Daddy smacks his arm lightly in admonishment, I roll my eyes and follow as we leave out little Manhattan townhouse and Garrick talks about how he is starving and likely to 'wither away'. Cue excessive eye rolling at my brother's blatant stupidity. Luckily a car is waiting for us, I'm guessing it is one of Dada's company cars since it is all black with blacked out windows and everyone clambers in. Although me and Daddy would say we 'entered the vehicle with utmost class' because we are like that and seconds later we are on our way.

Soon, we're all wrapped up in our own little world: Daddy and Dada are sitting close and chatting about business, and I mean that is okay but I'm not really in the mood for talking about Human Rights laws or whether monochromatic prints are the latest trend in Milan. Plus, my Daddies need some alone time; well, not that type, but they need to talk. I wonder how they do it. In books, you read about how people are so in love they cannot bare to be away from one another and I know for a fact that my parents love one another a lot more than these fictional ideologies of love. They're so brave, even though they talk on the phone I know they miss each other awfully; sometimes Daddy cries while wearing Dada's dressing gown. If that isn't true love, tell me what is.

"What are you staring at?" And like that my admiration of my parents love vanishes as Garrick prods me with his shoulder. I turn and try to give him a death glare, but unfortunately Kurt Hummel trademarked that particular glare a long time ago and however much I emulate my glorious Daddy in everyday life. I don't share any genes with him which means I don't wield his famous 'bitch glare', but I do have the 'Anderson Smile' which definitely helps with manipulation so I suppose it isn't all bad. So I settle for smacking him with my clutch bag.

"Nothing, just wondering how amazing it will be when you leave for College? I mean, the lack of stress from you bringing home those skank girls will be like a weight off all of our shoulders." Cue sweet smile and Garrick's responding grimace. He just nudges me again, idiot. I mean, I bruise like a peach so if he keeps shoving me like those idiots on the basketball court then by the end of tonight I will be literally black and blue.

"Don't get too excited yet, I'm only going to be a senior when we go back. So you're guaranteed at least one more year of me, before the heartbreak of me leaving for College." Heartbreak? Yeah right, I've been counting down the days. I just roll my eyes, my Daddies are still engrossed in conversation but I see them looking over towards us every so often. Most likely to see if we're fighting, which is a genuine concern when me and Garrick are too close for too long. But something is unsettling about the way it is Daddy constantly looking over; Dada just looks toward the ground. They're nervous, probably because we're going to a nice restaurant and they're afraid my retarded brother will embarrass them. Oh well, I have the same concerns in all honesty but something is still irking me about how Dada won't look into my eyes.

We've been driving for a while; I've rolled down the windows so I can breathe in the fresh air and not the toxic waste that my brother is wearing as cologne. I love New York, the skyscrapers, the yellow cabs, the general hustle and bustle of city life. The skyline, just wow. I mean, I've grown up in New York and yes at times we've travelled all over the world for fashion shows or high profile cases but every time I see New York; It is like the first time, when your breathe catches and you get that little twinkle in your eye. I just love it, the people and the little café's where you can listen to some Indi rocker as you sip on you medium drip coffee. I'm brought back to reality by my brother's incessant whinging, he is 17 for Wang's sake.

"Where are we going? I mean, I'm starving and we've been driving ages." Typical. Garrick thinking about his stomach yet again, I mean how selfish can you be? I just cross my arms and shoot him a dirty look. He just shrugs, and looks towards our parents expecting an answer. Dada's gaze is still fixed on the floor and I am starting to get a little worried, he smiles at me but it isn't a 'Dada smile' it just doesn't reach his eyes at all. I reach over and tap him on the back, but he just looks toward Daddy who clears his throat. As composed as always when he forces a cordial smile onto his face, his blue eyes darting to Dada who is staring out the window.

"We're going to Ming Gardens, and we should be there any minute." Okay, totally distracted. The Ming Garden is my favourite restaurant, honestly the prawn toast is simply divine and the Szechuan chicken is just out of this world. I am a little excited since there is usually a bit of a waiting list and I show this through smiling and maybe clapping to myself a little. Garrick on the other hand decides to show his appreciation by stomping and clapping like a caffeine fuelled toddler: Daddies are definitely nervous that he is going to embarrass us all and get us banned from every respectable establishment in Manhattan. I just shake my head.

* * *

Miraculously, Garrick manages to resemble some form of human throughout the course of the meal; despite the fact he ate at around 50mph as if this were his last meal and he was facing execution. But it could have been a lot worse: He could have tried eating his Chow Mein with his hands, which I hate to admit but he has attempted to on more than one occasion.

As always the food is nothing short of divine, and when I'm with my Daddies there is no question that the company is amazing and well this is Ming Garden so the atmosphere is phenomenal with the pipe music in the background and the gentle gush of the pseudo waterfall. Well, the Ming Garden isn't my favourite restaurant for nothing now is it?

The conversation was great, despite Garrick spouting his nonsensical opinions every now and then; I mean it was the perfect representation of the 'Gay New York Family' as me and Daddy debate the use of Duchess Satin over taffeta while Garrick rolls his eyes and scoffs at our 'meaningless' conversation and Dada seems to be contemplating the depths of his wineglass. If this moment could be caught on camera there is no question in my mind that the caption would be along the lines of 'This is the REAL New York'.

Then when the main course rolls out, we spend time talking about Gay Rights which is a big passion of mine alongside dancing, shopping, baking, beautifying myself, hugging Dada, fashion design. You see the list goes on and on, because in New York the sky is the limit and you can do whatever you want and be whoever you want to be. There are no expectations or limitations, just dreams and working hard to make sure that they come true.

See, I tend to get a little distracted every. Dada calls me his little fairy because I lose my head in the clouds; Garrick is waving his hand in my face. Well, being the adorable sister I am I slap his hand away and mutter to myself about the numerous advantages of having him neutered like a pet dog before I realise everyone at the table is staring at me. Shizzle, have I got something down my dress? I look down and find the green silk as immaculate as when Daddy finished the elaborate embroidery.

"Yeah, this sweet and sour pork is divine." I just shrug; I mean it is a little awkward when people are staring at you as if you're the only non-mourner at a funeral. Thankfully, I managed to shatter the awkward silence as Garrick stares at me open mouthed, Dada laughs and Daddy just shakes his head in disbelief, before shrugging his shoulders and gently tapping his recently empty wine glass with his knife.

Oh, I'd forgotten they wanted to talk about something. I wonder what it is? Maybe Dada needs to go away again for a while; yes it is a crappy situation but needs must and well he'll come back eventually, or Daddy has decided to re decorate. Again. Also a bit crappy but I'll survive, I suppose. In fact I was deliberating asking if I could go for a more 'sophisticated' look in my room, a palette of reds and black and maybe a splash of white to give it that chic edge.

"So, we've been waiting a while to tell you this…" Daddy cuts off as he looks toward Dada who is quite obviously looking anywhere but at me or Garrick. Now that gets my attention, Dada is a 'focussed' individual to say the least, he along with me are the only two people who can endure a full day of shopping with Daddy without being admitted to a mental hospital or making an attempt on your own life. This isn't going to be pretty: How long is Dada going away?

Oh my, what if he is gone for like a year? What am I supposed to do without Dada? I can feel my heart pounding and I close my eyes; I peek through my lashes to see Daddy staring at Dada, expecting something. Dada clears his throat, radiating awkward: Which is as rare as snow in the Sahara, Dada isn't afraid of 'audiences' since he is a top lawyer and everything. Oh my, they are going to have another baby or something? I mean, I think it is a great idea and I'd love to have a little brother but they are a bit old. Finally Dada seems to have gained control over his vocal chords.

"So, where in America can you find the Beanie mascot and the most prolific Cheerleading squad on the planet?" His voice just oozes forced cheeriness. Have I stepped into some alternate reality? I though Dada was meant to be telling us something, not pulling us into some twisted version of Trivial Pursuit. I just shrug my shoulders, I'm more of a ballerina than a cheerleader and I don't care about anything sport related unless it is the abs of sports players. I mean, who cares about Geography? It is about as interesting as chess or something just as tedious. Garrick's brow is furrowed in confusion, which isn't a surprise frankly.

"I don't know Dada" I just bat my eyelashes, let's get through this frivolous garbage and down to whatever it is he wants to say. Dada must lap up my cutesy act because he gives me his bashful grin and he squeezes Daddy's hand, he takes a deep breath.

"Lima, Ohio" I was expecting jazz hands, or a 'Ta Da' but at least I've learned something. Garrick looks genuinely scared, most probably this was an information overload and his tiny brain can't process it quick enough. I just look at my parents; they are looking at me expectantly. Weird, it should be them elaborating on the pointless fact of the day. I don't know anything about Lima.

"Daddies, that is incredibly interesting and I'll be sure to remember for future reference. But would you care to like, well tell us whatever it is you want to tell us." Dada looks down, catching his lower lip between his teeth: He looks scared, I swear I'll bitch slap whoever it is who scared Dada. I look over my shoulder and see some old hag looking over at our table, if she doesn't look away pretty soon I'll go over there and strangle her with that ridiculous feather boa she has across her shoulders. Before anyone else can speak Garrick buts in, all hushed whispering and 'mysterious'. That boy genuinely confuses me.

"I don't like where this is going, but can we hurry up. Gotta feeling you might wanna try the band aid method?" He throws a weary glance at me, why? If Dada wants to spout pointless facts about America, he can. I'm not going to stop him, unlike Garrick I have the mental capacity to listen and actually absorb information. I look at my Daddies, both who are staring at me: I mean I can generally read their facial expressions but I'm not telepathic. I wave my hand, a gesture for them to elaborate.

Daddy looks at Dada, lips curling down in disappointment as Dada just stares at the table so intently it is as though he wants to fall through it like some weird version of 'Alice in Wonderland' . Daddy sighs and looks at me, his big blue eyes sending a silent plea for understanding: Oh no, this is bad. Not chipped nail bad, but black paint on your wedding dress bad. This is the same 'look' Daddy gave me when he told me that I had failed to gain admission to the Dance Summer School at Julliard, which is a decision I still contest. Deep, calming breathes. Daddy grabs my hand, looking directly at me and I prepare myself for the worst. Grandaddy Burt must have died, or Nana Carole, or Grandee Joshua or Nana Floss. Deep, calming breathes.

"What your father was trying to tell you in a roundabout way…"

* * *

_**Blaine Hummel-Anderson.**_

"…is that we're moving to Lima." Quick and to the point. I've always admire Kurt's ability to just cut straight to the heart of the matter. I couldn't do it; I know how much my Princess loves New York: The architecture, the people, the culture and the general atmosphere that comes from living in the Big Apple. I couldn't look into her eyes, the exact shade of hazel as mine, and tell her that I was snatching her 'Perfect Life' away. I am a coward. The silence stretches on and I chance a quick look at the other occupants at the table: Garrick is nonplussed, but I think he'd already caught wind of the conversations direction; Kurt had squared his jaw as if awaiting an explosion and then I looked at my Eva. Glassy eyed and staring blankly between me and Kurt, I smile at her in encouragement. But she doesn't smile back.

Kurt looks toward me, his eyebrow raised as I give him a smug smile. I knew my Princess wouldn't over react, despite her 'theatrical flair' Eva is a sweet and mature young lady. And I couldn't be prouder, that is until she begins to laugh. Not her usual bell like laugh filled with mirth and joy, a hysterical laughter as her wide eyes flicker between us all, betraying the escalating panic she is trying to quell inside of her: I close my eyes. People are staring from across the restaurant, I am so tempted to just flip them off; but my daughter is my most pressing concern right now.

"Daddies, Ming Garden is not the place for one of your practical jokes. So, let's just order desert and go home." She is nodding her head, and I feel a stabbing pain in my chest as she tries to maintain a firm grasp on her 'reality'. I look towards Kurt, he is grasping my hand and I can see the crystal blue eyes begin to water: Eva won't believe us. I know that, and deep down so does Kurt; Garrick keeps throwing quick glances at his sister too, waiting for what they deem the 'inevitable explosion'. I catch Kurt's eye and nod, smiling at the relief that floods his face; Kurt cannot always be the bearer of bad news.

I lean across the table and grab my Honey Bee's hand, licking my lips as my pulse begins to race. She looks up at me, eyes wide and I can tell she is screaming on the inside: I open my mouth but the words won't come as I stare into her hazel orbs. Begging, I can see it in her eyes, she is begging for me to tell her this is all a joke; I'm her Dad, the one she seeks protection from but I cannot protect her from this. This is happening. I hold her gaze, my stomach churning as tears begin to pool in her eyes. I shake my head, words failing me, but I see the devastation in her eyes and I release the breath I've been holding as crystal tears begin to make tracks down her face.

I try to squeeze her hand but she pulls it away, and I feel a stabbing pain somewhere in my chest. I try to get to my feet but Kurt stops me by putting a hand on my shoulder, his jaw is set in determination but I can see right through his beautiful blue eyes and into his even more beautiful soul: He yearns to run around the table and embrace Eva as much as I. I reach towards Eva again, but she lowers her hands to her lap. She glares so vehemently at me that I almost cower back in fear, her eyes are as hard as the topaz they resemble and her jaw is clenched: Betrayal, I can see it in her eyes. She is hurt and angry.

"I need some air." Her voice is monotonous, clipped and forcibly polite. She climbs to her feet in one fluid motion, her shoulders pulled back and she storms through the restaurant: Dancing through the maze of tables with a grace which is testament to her years of dance training, but as she reaches the door I see her shoulders slump in defeat. I feel the sting of tears making in my eyes and I brush them away: Everyone is staring at our table, I climb to my feet but Kurt pulls me down and embraces me. He places a quick kiss to my forehead.

"Let her go, she's going to need some space." I nod my head at Kurt's logic, which is flawless as always. My own shoulder mirroring the slumped posture of my daughters, Garrick reaches over and places his hand on my shoulder. I try and smile, he shakes his head and although his eyes glimmer with understanding. I can see he is as upset by this 'revelation' as Eva, he just doesn't project his emotions. He stands up.

"Dad, I'm going to take Eva home. Try and make sure she cools off, you stay and settle the bill and we can talk about this later. I don't really fancy desert anyway." He just walks away, exiting the restaurant. I turn and place my head against Kurt's shoulder. To the outside world, I am the 'Alpha Gay', the strong one who is meant to be able to control myself but that couldn't be further from the truth. Kurt is stronger; he is the one who holds me up and picks me up when I've fallen down, he is the one that pieces me back together when it all gets too much and I shatter into a million pieces.

"We've messed up Kurt, she hates us." My voice a broken whisper as we pointedly ignore the curious glances being directed toward out table. My greatest fear that our children would one day grow to resent us. And now I can see it becoming a reality right before my eyes. I know Garrick would eventually come around, he was laid back and content to just go with the flow; which was shocking seeing as Kurt is always the one for planning ahead and trying to make sure everything goes off without a hitch. Shame his forward thinking didn't really help in this situation.

"Darling, she doesn't hate us. I mean who could hate you, with your puppy dog eyes." He trails a thumb along my cheekbone; I lean into the gentle caress craving any form of reassurance. I know Kurt is trying to comfort me, as he always is. Trying to put a smile on my face as dark thoughts threaten to invade my mind, but this time I doubt that Kurt's optimism will work. That look in her eyes, sadness and hatred was like an arrow to my heart and I'm surprised I'm still breathing.

"No Kurt, she won't. She stormed out of here; she won't even look at me…" Before I can continue with my self-depreciation, Kurt twists in his chair so we're face to face: His blue eyes are hard, his thin lips pursed in almost anger and I know that Kurt is looking into my soul. He shakes his head and kisses me, just a gentle kiss and despite our situation I deepen the kiss to try and block out the pain that seems to have nestled into my chest; Kurt breaks away, a little breathless and I grin at the twinkle in his cerulean eyes. But that soon disappears and is replaced by Kurt's 'lecture' face and I sink back into my chair.

"Down boy, we'll have to wait till later. Now, first we'll settle the bill and then we're going to sort this out. I don't want you to continue with this 'she hates me' stupidity; she loves you, she just needs time to adjust. To be honest, I would've been more worried if she hadn't of had her little outburst: I mean how could she be the daughter of Rachel Berry and not have a fondness for theatricality" I smile at Kurt's good natured humour, we quickly settle the bill and walk hand in hand away from the restaurant. Together forever, despite whatever happened in the past, and ready to face anything.

The unfortunate thing is the very thing we are about to face is a daughter who inherited my charm, Kurt's pride and her surrogate mother's tenacity. I can only hope we have God or some other 'superior being' on our side. Because I'm not afraid to say that this will be like wearing red to a bullfight.

* * *

_**Evangeline Hummel-Anderson**_

Heartbroken, devastated, completely and utterly betrayed: You know I don't think even words as poignant as this can sum up my inner turmoil right about now. Whatever possessed my Fathers, yes I use the noun father because they sure as Hell aren't my Daddies right about now, to want to move to Lima, Ohio? I mean L.I.M.A: Lost in the middle of America. That is actually what it stands for; they must be having a midlife crisis. Wanting to recapture their youth or something else just as preposterous: Lima?

I mean, we have family there and everything, it is where our Fathers met but that doesn't justify dragging us all into the middle of nowhere. I've been crying so hard that I think my head is minutes away from exploding and everything is ten times worse when my oaf of a brother is following me around like I'm about to throw myself out of a window. Yes, moving to Lima would signify the end of my life but I really am not the kind of person to commit suicide: It just seems so macabre and unnecessary, although I'm starting to understand why some people do decide to top themselves.

I throw myself onto my bed, silent tears streaming down my face as I stare up at the ceiling: Remember me bragging about having the perfect life? Well, I can tell you that said life isn't looking as perfect right about now. The rug has well and truly been pulled from under my feet, and now I've landed in a pile of crap: Also known as Lima dearest friends. Garrick just sits at the end of my bed, looking up at me in what some would call concern. The only thing he is concerned about is if I do anything stupid he'll get the blame seeing as he is the eldest, and supposedly more mature, child.

"So, you seem to have calmed down a bit?" Calm? How the Hell am I calm? If I had the energy I would be causing a reign of destruction through the house, a true scorned woman: A scorned Dixie Chick on crack. But no, I am heartbroken and heartbroken people do not do that: They wallow in self-pity, which is what I am planning to do until I can be bothered to make my Fathers see sense. For now I will content myself by kicking Garrick for his stupidly sarcastic remark. He just chuckles.

"Piss off Garrick; I cannot be bothered with you and your crap right you can go anf tell our parents that I am not talking to them." I turn and look away from him, prick. I'm not the fondest of bad language but in my current situation I think I am entitled to use as many expletives as I bloody well please. My brother; or as I shall refer to him for the remainder of my bad mood, Twatface, just chuckles.

"Calm down, we're only moving to Ohio. It won't kill you." Is he retarded? Did one of our asshole parents drop him on his head as a baby? Moving to Ohio is as good as being dead; in my eyes the whole bloody state should be seen as God's waiting room: The place where unfortunate souls go to die. I just splutter at him, words escape me. How can he be so blasé about this?

"Garrick, in case you're too dumb to notice. Those people are trying to snatch us away from New York, the land of dreams etc. To go to Ohio. I mean, Ohio is nice for weekend visits to see the family; I could do 2 weeks there under extreme extenuating circumstances. But I couldn't live there if my life depended on it: Fuck me, these people wear flannel shirts and bloody speak Ohioese or something ridiculous. They're trailer trash, hicks who get knocked up at like 15. Do I look like trailer trash to you?" Okay, maybe I am ranting a little but I really don't want to go to Ohio. Garrick just finds it amusing, this is another testament to how clueless my parents are if they're sending this moron to try and calm me down.

"I think you're over reacting, I mean it isn't as if you've gotta stay there forever. Just High School, and for all you know our Dad's may have a very good reason for us having to move. If I'm being honest with you, you're sounding like a spoilt brat. Why're you being so selfish?" With his useless words of wisdom he tries to leave, I don't think so; not when you have the audacity to imply that I am the selfish one in this scenario. Quicker than Dada if someone had stolen his hair gel I jump up and throw a photo frame at his head; well towards his head seeing as I don't want to cause a serious injury and go to juvie for GBH. But I must admit that the crash as it hits the wall is very satisfying. He rounds on me, mouth agape and wide eyed as if I'm some crazy woman. I'll show him a crazy woman!

"SELFISH! WHAT'S SELFISH IS THAT THOSE PATHETIC FOOLS WE CALL PARENTS ARE DRAGGING US FROM PILLAR TO POST. I AM NOT GOING TO OHIO!" Garrick is speechless, never thought I'd see the day, but it is hard to imagine a chorus of angels singing hallelujah when my heart is racing at a million miles per hour and all I want to do is smash things up. Well, if my parents see fit to 'try' and drag me across the country without consulting me first: Then I feel entitled to do as I damn please. So you know what I am going to do? Scream this house down and smash anything that gets in my way: Starting with that ridiculous lamp that 'Kurt' brought. SMASH. That jewellery box 'Blaine' brought back from Paris. SMASH.

"Stop it, you psycho bitch." Garrick moves towards me, I didn't listen to you before dickhead. So I sure as hell am not listening to you now, while he tries to prise the stack of CD's from me I bite his arm. And I bite it hard enough to draw blood, he backs away looking at me like I'm a rabid animal. To the outside I probably do look a tad unstable but I don't care: After all, my fucking 'Daddies' are always talking about 'expressing myself' and in this moment in time I am feeling a little unstable. I throw my pots of nail polish like they're death stars at Garrick and he runs like the bitch he is and slams the door. Parents want to make my life a mess eh? I'll show them a mess. I snatch up the scissors from my desk and throw open the doors to my wardrobe: I think I'll start with the 'Hummel Couture Collection'. SNIP, SNIP, : I practically rip off the green silk that has been encasing my body and stamp on it like there is no tomorrow.

I hear a door slam downstairs, oh how lovely: The Worst Parents of the Century have come home. Well I should give them their reward, because unlike them I am not a selfish piece of shit. I snatch up a CD and put on a track that I think is extremely appropriate in 'expressing myself' I turn up the volume of Kelis' 'I Hate You So Much Right Now'. I march open and throw open my bedroom door, call me a crazy, drama queen, psycho bitch as much as you like: I am just making sure I make my opinion heard.

"I AM NOT GOING TO THAT SHIT HOLE! I WILL NOT BE SOME LIMA LOSER WHO HAS 4 KIDS AND WEIGHS 40 STONE….I HATE YOU" Well if they want to drag me to Ohio, then I swear to all the Gods of fashion, music and every other thing which is essential to my life. Which are all non-existent in Ohio, may I add, then they better be ready for World War Eva because I am not going down without a fight. Now where was I?

SMASH. CRACK. BANG. CRUNCH...

* * *

_**Kurt Hummel-Anderson**_

This isn't exactly how I had anticipated how this evening would turn out, not at all. I thought with us all being civilised human beings we would be able to sit down and discuss this like well civilised human beings; but it seems our daughter lacks the maturity to act like the young lady we raised her to be. I had expected some tears and maybe a few slamming doors, and the general 'Kitty Cat Rage' she was prone to throwing as a child who dropped their favourite toy out of the buggy: I just wasn't expecting this. For the last 45 minutes, Blaine, Garrick and I have been sitting in silence: Listening as our daughter demolishes her bedroom and plays music that is 'fitting for her mood'.

I would go upstairs and slap some reality into the girl, but Blaine is adamant that we shouldn't disturb her and that she needs to vent: I'd be more lenient if it weren't for her venting on my interior design decisions that took me countless hours of deliberation. But seeing the distraught expression on my husband's face after our daughter decided to scream unceremoniously that she hated us was enough to keep my cool. Blaine is just staring at the ceiling where directly above us, Evangeline is creating an awful racket as she tries to demolish our house from the inside out, silent tears streaming down his face and I want to cry seeing him like this. Just so broken and non-Blaine: I love my daughter, but the way she can tear Blaine apart is particularly irksome at times like this.

I reach over a hand to comfort him but he pulls his arm away as if my touch would burn him, deciding instead to find solace in one of our crimson scatter cushions and I feel tears well in my own eyes. I look over at Garrick, he is licking his lips: An annoying habit inherited from yours truly, he is worried as he stares at his father with unadulterated concern. I nod my head and he looks at mouthing 'Should I go?' but he doesn't wait for an answer he just stands and gives us both a hug before departing for his bedroom. I stare at my husband, so broken, and I know I need to put him back together: I slide across so I am sitting right next to him and pull him up so he is cradled in my arms like a baby and crying into my shirt, most likely ruining it but I don't care. Even if the navy blue button up is a vintage McQueen. My only concern is my husband, and trying to sort this mess out.

"Kurt…It's all my fault she hates us. She hates me, my little princess…" And once again he was consumed by the swirling emotions it seems only our daughter can invoke: I always knew it was questionable having Rachel as our second surrogate, I should have anticipated the potential disasters regarding Eva's inherited tendency to make any situation the Eva Show. So I just held him, staring into those eyes that could never decide if they wanted to be a vivid emerald, a chocolate brown or a dazzling honey. I pressed my lips to Blaine's, our tongues dancing the dance they had perfected over the years; the familiar rhythm of yielding and giving is soothing and I hope that my kiss is able to alleviate Blaine's 'suffering'. I really do need to have a little 'Gay to Girl' talk with my daughter.

"Shhh…she loves you. She always has and despite this hissy fit, she always will. We always knew she was a tad over dramatic, case and point" I raise my eyes towards Eva's room and Blaine laughs, the watery chuckle is still able to make my heart skip a beat after all these years. He pulls me back in and attacks my lips, in the desperation of his kiss I can read his pain, his love and everything else that made me fall in love with one Blaine Anderson. For moments, we lose ourselves in the kiss: Trailing my fingers along his chest, feeling the intricate carvings of his toned abs; I send a silent prayer to the powers that be for ensuring Blaine has kept himself in impeccable shape over the years.

"I…love…you…Kurt" Blaine spits out professions of love as he ravages my mouth with his forceful kisses, I'd like to think the gentle purring emanating from my chest is more than enough for an answer. The animalistic growls that tear through Blaine are definitely a way of appeasing any worries I had concerning Blaine not realising how much I love him. The beauty of finding your soul mate, and yes you will find many clichés are applicable to our relationship, is that time does not bind us in any way: We lay across the sofa making out like hormonally crazed teens, the nostalgia of our schooldays is not lost on me, but it could be for seconds, minutes or hours. All that matters in this moment is me and Blaine. Until the inappropriately loud music coming from upstairs ceases, we spring apart like teenagers caught in some lewd act by their parents.

"What the…?" I should be thankful that the incessant noise has gone but I know my daughter: The 'explosion' may very well be over, but all that means is that she is planning her next move and I am 100% sure that whatever happens next will make this look like a walk in the park. I glance at Blaine, wearing a bashful smile full of hope; I just want to bash my head against the coffee table. He thinks it has all blown over, that Eva will come bounding down the stairs and jump straight into his arms and he would once again be the 'World's Greatest Dada'. Not likely, not likely at all.

"Kurt, what does this mean?" The question sounded cautious, but I know Blaine better than that. The grin, the way his hazel eyes shine with an almost childlike exuberance is like a knife straight through my heart. One of the most beautiful things about my husband is his eternal optimism, despite being exposed to adversity and prejudice throughout his life. A true victim of a cynical and cruel world, yet he held onto hope steadfastly: As I said it was his most admirable quality, but at times like this it was his greatest weakness.

He turns to look at me, the question in his eyes basically begging me to reassure him: If I could, I would just smile and watch as the lines in his forehead vanish in a state of relief but I will not lie to Blaine. But Blaine can read me as easily as I read him; the minute gesture of me shaking in my head is enough for his face to crumple yet again. The expression of sadness doesn't last long though; he rubs his forehead and closes his eyes. Whatever happened to the Kurt and Blaine love story? We were meant to live in New York and live a stress free life, the perfect non-nuclear family.

"What are we going to do?" Blaine is wearing a contemplative expression, an expression that means he is up to something. This expression has led to a number of my fondest memories: Serenading me with 'It's Time' inspired me to 'take the leap' and begin my life in New York, our first kiss stolen in the Junior Common Room of Dalton Academy as I painstakingly bejewelled Pavarotti's casket, the Lima Bean where he first said those famous three words. But before I become lost in memories I realise that this expression is a double edged sword: It can lead to disaster as easily as happiness. Thankfully, I am spared of imagining whatever ludicrous plan my husband may be concocting as we speak as Garrick walks into the room. His trademark bewildered expression in place as he walks into the lounge wearing his navy blue silk house coat, in his hands a white envelope: He just looks at me and shrugs.

"Umm…Dads, I think this is for you, but it was slid under my bedroom door." He hands me the envelope and scratches his head and rocks on his feet. In Eva's elaborate cursive it says 'Kurt and Blaine Hummel-Anderson'. So it is quite blatantly for me but Garrick looks as confused as ever; if I didn't know that my brother, Finn were alive and healthy I would present Garrick as evidence for reincarnation. He just looks at us as I hand the envelope to Blaine, dreading the effects the contents may have on my sensitive husband.

"So, I think I'm just gonna go to bed. See ya in the morning Dads. G'night." Garrick just walks away from the room, avoiding the awkward atmosphere that has blanketed the house. No, Garrick is our son just as much as Eva is our daughter. Just because he doesn't throw a Rachel Berry fit does not mean that this isn't upsetting him just as much as his sister; after years of standing in the background of the Diva's I call friends, such as Rachel, Mercedes and even Santana, I really know how he feels.

"Gar, I'll bring you some hot chocolate up in a second. We can have a chat, and tomorrow I'm sure you'd like to go and pick up those sneakers you were eyeing up the other day." Garrick grins, instantly appeased and that makes me smile. If only maintaining the only female in the household was as easy, both me and Blaine wish Garrick a 'Goodnight' as he leaves the room. Sons are so much easier to deal with. Especially our son whom despite being heterosexual, I've seen far too much proof to believe otherwise, still respects the sacred art of retail therapy.

Blaine is holding the envelope in his hands and staring at it with such concentration I really wouldn't be surprised if it spontaneously combusted; some delusion that through sheer force of will he could make whatever was written change into sugar and spice and all things nice. I let out an exasperated sigh and snatch the envelope, in most instances Blaine isn't afraid to seize the initiative but when it comes to delicate situations like this one. I'm the one who takes control. I rip open the envelope and pull out the paper, I feel Blaine's head resting on my shoulder and his muscular arm curled around my waist as we begin to read.

_**Dear Blaine and Kurt, (yes I am using your given names rather than any terms of endearment, to show you how displeased I am at you both. Especially you Dada.)**_

_**This letter is designed with the sole purpose of addressing the issue that you have deluded yourself into thinking you want to move to the not so wonderful place called Lima in Ohio. First of all I want you to go and look out of the window, see that city with those skyscrapers and happy people? Not going to happen in Ohio. I have finally realised that you may be going through a difficult time and this may have affected you mentally and as your loving daughter, I want you to know that I would support you if you needed to see a therapist or in a worst case scenario, be admitted to rehab. I really love you that much.**_

_**Now, if you don't want to go to the Doctor's about this and still persist in trying to ruin all our lives and risk alienating your ONLY daughter I am using this letter as a written warning that I will pursue legal proceedings to become an emancipated minor. And if that revelation is not enough, I have compiled a list of reasons why Lima is an unsuitable place for me to continue on my path to adulthood.**_

_**1. Lima is VILE: The most noteworthy place is Breadstix. The Mall is poorly stocked, SEVERE DEFICIENCY IN DESIGNER LABELS, and well it is NOT New York. I want to see Skyscrapers on a daily basis. The place lacks culture, fashion and everything necessary for everyday living: Plus I always said the water tastes funny!**_

_**2. The people, although I love our relatives dearly who still dwell in the 'quaint' place, are generally inbred. They are not supportive of Gay Rights and this could be DANGEROUS for us all, physically: Neanderthals could murder us as we sleep. But also emotionally, there is significant risk I may be targeted for having gay parents which would consequently make you feel like 'failures' as parents. In all this would lead to the breakdown of our family and I would truly become a Lima Loser: Aged 16, 2 children and an abusive partner, gaining significant amounts of weight. I could become a prostitute or some other deviant: Not a pretty picture, right? The bad thins is this could ACTUALLY HAPPEN. YES, it is that bad.**_

_**3. My education/ future prospects. In New York, we are a well-connected family with connections in practically every field…Plus, the education is better (I even Googled grade averages.) so by snatching us away from the city of dreams, you are potentially destroying any chance Garrick or myself may have at a decent future which is SELFISH! (And I am not being selfish, seeing as I considered Garrick before you roll your eyes…Kurt)**_

_**4. Point 3 leads directly into this: Your futures. I mean, how will you earn money? Do you expect us to live destitute in Lima or something, I know we have savings but maintaining a household is NOT CHEAP! So, we'll be poor and I could starve and become malnourished… Yes, as well as emotionally Lima could be hazardous to our health and socio-economic standing etc. SEE?**_

_**Well, there are so many more reasons why this 'move' you have planned spontaneously will be detrimental to my WHOLE life! So I suggest you buck up your ideas seeing as you have NO REASONS for dragging me halfway across the country…AGAINST MY WILL may I add. Once you have seen sense, when you decide mutually that New York is the best place to be, I will consider speaking to you and possibly paying for damage I may or may not have caused (there is no definitive proof) from my allowance.**_

_**Awaiting your correspondence (I have unlocked my bedroom door now)**_

_**Kindest Regards,**_

_**Eva (Last name still undecided in case I do file for emancipation)**_

_**P.S: There are no kisses, because I don't think you deserve them right now. **_

I don't know whether or not to laugh, at the exaggeration or her deluded ideas. It would be a lot more humorous if I knew she didn't actually believe what she had written, but I don't take offence and I point blank refuse to be emotionally blackmailed by a child. My own child at that. The same cannot be said for my husband, slumped in the chair and staring at the letter as if it had sprouted venomous fangs and was about to strike him: Eva was always better at manipulating Blaine's emotions, and in a bitchy High School way the letter was intelligent of her for targeting him directly; but I survived High School and made a name for myself in New York. So she had better step up her game if she wants to come out on top, I grab Blaine's hand.

"I'm just going to talk to Garrick, and ignore whatever she said and forget whatever you're thinking. She will come around, eventually. But until then you need to not let her get to you. Mind the total irony of the situation Blaine, but have courage." He smiles, remembering the advice he gave me all those years ago which has become a sacred philosophy in the Hummel-Anderson household. He climb to his feet and stretches before pulling me up, he runs a hand through his hair and winks before he squeezes my ass: A promise for things to come later, if he survives the potential blood bath that is whatever happens with our dearest daughter.

"I'll go and talk some sense into her Kurt, well try to. She's as pig headed as you and Rachel at times, but like me she can also see sense." He gives me another kiss before he departs on the voyage of trying to make Eva see said 'sense'. I wish him good luck, when he is gone I do a little shimmy as I head towards the kitchen to make Garrick the hot chocolate I'd promised him. Tonight, I definitely drew the longer straw when it came to dealing with the kids. Whatever happens, I'll just comfort Blaine and reassure Garrick: A whole lot easier than trying to convince Eva that moving to Lima could actually be a thing for the better.

* * *

_**Evangeline Hummel-Anderson.**_

I am daydreaming about the possibilities of emancipating my parents and living in the concrete jungle alone: The glamorous parties, the freedom and if I'm being 'logical' I can always have Auntie Rachel or Auntie Erin as pseudo parents. After all, it was my fabulous Aunties who've always been there in terms of conventional 'mother/daughter' time if you count the time Auntie E taught me about using tampons while Auntie Rach was talking about contraception and how I shouldn't let any man get 'all up in my gold star' unless I love him or something just as cringe worthy.

Unfortunately, my little vacation in fantasy land is disturbed by a knock on my door frame: I know it is Dada. It is always Dada who gets landed with the job of consoling me and trying to make me see 'reason'. Well I am not in the mood for any reasoning right now; in fact I could happily drop kick him into next week so when he pulls out the 'Anderson Grin' I simply glare. Sorry Dada, if you want me to start liking you again you're going to have to try a lot harder than that; maybe admit that this whole 'Lima Situation' is an elaborate joke and how you'd never want to be cast in the role of Evil Dada who whisks the Princess away from her castle in New York. His smile falters and he puts his hands in my pockets, he is chewing his lip as he shuffles into the room like a school boy expecting punishment. See, he knows that this diabolical plan of his is a complete disaster.

"Oh Honey Bee…" I just continue to glare at him, and thankfully he managed to retain enough brain cells to realise that right about now I would rather throw myself from a great height or choke on my own vomit than make amends with my so called 'parents'. He walks a bit further into the room, testing the waters as Kurt would say.

"Blaine, first of all don't call me Honey Bee. I dressed as a bumblebee for Halloween about a century ago: It is childish and demeaning. I'm almost a grown woman, a woman who has grown enough to know that I am not moving to Lima. Okay, now thank you and bye." I roll away to face my wall, I may not be in the best mood right about now but I still don't like the stabbing pain of guilt whenever I see tears pool in Dada's eyes. I knew I shouldn't have called him Blaine. No, I should not be concerned about his feelings seeing as they completely disregarded mine; I roll back over and resume giving him the 'look' which I seriously hope portrays my deep hurt rather than making me look constipated.

"I'm sorry Eva, I didn't want to upset you. I thought you would have calmed down enough for us to talk about this." He opens his arms, is he seriously expecting me to hug him? Is he now taking crack as well as trying to ruin my life? I pull myself sitting into a sitting position and fold my arms. Dada is a negotiator, a compromiser through and through so let's try some compromise. I take a calming breathe; keeping my voice steady is crucial. I cannot burst into tears because that shows weakness and I cannot start screaming profanities because that is simply childish.

"I don't want to talk about it. I don't want it to happen and I am adamant that whatever you try: I am not going to Lima, as well as the reasons I gave in my letter which I concede may have not been the most polite letter you have ever received; there is no valid reason for us to move to Lima. I know it is a special place for you and Daddy but we're not you, New York is mine and Garrick's 'special place'" I smirk, that actually sounded mature and by the crease in Dada's forehead I think I might be making progress. He rubs his head and perches on the end of my bed, placing his hand on my leg.

"Lima is special for us, but I know that it will help our family. Become closer and do things rather than living the 'New York' life when you never get a moment to speak because there is always so much going on." Doesn't he get it? I like the 'New York' life hence why I am so damn adamant that I'll be staying here. I think I understand when women talk about men being clueless; my parents are just evidence that even gay men are not immune to this particular trait.

"We ARE a close family, we argue but everyone does. I'm pretty sure the rednecks in Lima argue a hell of a lot more than we do. Yes, Garrick and I can scream at one another but that is what siblings do. I read somewhere that conflict is a necessity for a healthy sibling relationship or something totally irrelevant. If you and Daddy are having some weird problems, I advise you visit a marriage councillor or renew your vows or something. Moving across the country is hardly necessary." Dada just stares at me, his hazel eyes wide: I can see the hurt in his eyes, the implication that his and Daddy's marriage was in trouble was a teeny bit of a low blow and I do feel bad. But someone once said you never win by playing fair, what aggravates me though is that the hurt is overshadowed by pity or something. That look in a teacher's eye when an unruly child is unable to comprehend the simplest of equations; I almost hiss at the subtle implication that I am, for want of a better word, 'retarded' when it comes to understanding this 'situation'.

"It is nothing to do with that Eva, I suppose that it was my decision: I hardly see you, I spend all of my time travelling from state to state and I have missed out on so much. Football games, recitals and it might make me selfish but I don't want to miss out on you or Garrick growing up; well any more than I already have. In Lima, I'll have no travelling to do per say and then Dad will be able to work from home…" I cut him off there, what? I think I misheard him; I push myself so I'm standing in front of my father. I can practically feel my eyes bugging out of my skull, but I strut towards the door.

"Oh you aren't the selfish one Dada, not at all. So let me get this right? You have to sacrifice everything, your stellar reputation and all of your connections to work in some second rate law firm in some pigsty of a place? But Kurt can 'work from home' and continue to live the dream. I bet you it was his decision really, I bet he manipulated you into thinking you were 'selfish' because we all know how you love to be martyred. That sneaking, SELFISH BASTARD" I scream the last words, not concerned whether or not the subject of my abuse heard me. It is so true, my poor Dada is constantly manipulated by my Daddy and I never thought it would be a bad thing necessarily: Until this whole Lima debacle that is. I sneak a glance at Dada and freeze, rather than a look of understanding at my flawless logic. Dada looks mad, very mad. Madder than I think I've ever seen him, and I flinch instinctively as he narrows his hazel eyes at me. Eyes which are currently blazing like wildfire.

"You will not speak of your father that way." His voice thunders across the room and I am sorely tempted to cover my ears; his tenor voice booms as though he was screaming through a microphone and I have no doubt that if we were in a cartoon then the walls would be shaken. To say I was scared would be an understatement; I was shocked that Dada would ever shout at me like that: Garrick maybe, but never me. And then I am petrified, Dada is always so calm and radiates control but now as he trembles with poorly concealed rage: He looks dangerous and I feel like a dog backed into a corner. A dog in a corner can do one of two things: You back away into submission or you lash out and to put it simply, I am the 'lash out' kind of girl.

"Well he is not my father, and I will speak as I like." Normally I am passive aggressive, but today I seem to have dropped the passive element: I am screaming in Dada's face, I literally sound like some deranged harpy from the depths of hell and Dada steps away. Unfortunately the moment of weakness passes and he pulls himself to his full height, despite being short for a man Dada still towers over me. My instincts are telling me to back down and shut up as he walks towards me, well screw my instincts for once: I just glare vehemently, sending a stream of silent expletives towards the man who looks seconds away from spontaneously combusting.

"Not under my roof Evangeline, I'm growing tired of your petulance. So for once in your life, act your age and get an attitude adjustment." I think if you were quiet enough you could hear my jaw hit the floor, metaphorically of course but that is beside the point. Did he just pull the full name and call me childish? No, a child would submit to their parents psychotic whims; I am mature enough to know what I want, and tenacious enough to get it. I bristle and I don't know what possesses me but I step closer so I am standing toe to toe with Dada, any resemblance of respect seems to have flown out of the window.

"Well maybe I won't be living under your roof much longer Blaine. I can live with Auntie Erin or Rachel or bloody Seraphine from school." I smirk, tasting the sweet honey of victory until my Dada simply laughs in my face. I don't know what he finds so funny, maybe he is in denial that his one and only daughter is about to leave; He grins right back at me.

"Evangeline, both Erin and Rachel signed disclosure papers. Your father and I are your legal parents so you can shoot that little scheme down, and for once in your life you will show some respect and do as you are told." I scream, I literally see sparks before my eyes as he literally cuts away one of my escape options. I throw my hand out but before flesh meets flesh, Dada grabs my wrist in a vice grip. No matter how much I struggle I can't overpower him.

"Get off me, I HATE YOU" He doesn't even flinch but he lets go of my wrist, nice to know he is ever so concerned by the fact he just physically abused me. He stares at me and I almost flinch at the way his eyes bore into mine; that strange feeling as if someone is staring into your soul and I feel vulnerable. I just walk backwards and drop to my bed, he shakes his head. Radiating disappointment and sadness; unfortunately that is when the remorse kicks in and all I want to do is grovel and beg for forgiveness but I am stubborn and I will not let up on this.

"Eva, in all honesty: I love you and I always will, but right now I am finding it exceptionally difficult to actually like you." He sounds old and defeated but I keep my head held high, maintaining the eye contact: Breaking eye contact is a sign of weakness and neither I nor my resolves are weak. He looks down and shakes his head and for once I think I am lost for words: Twice in one night, that simply cannot happen so I revert to the failsafe 'teenage phrase.'

"This is so unfair." Dada shrugs his shoulders and I feel like crying, he walks towards the door and turns back. He looks at me as though I am a stranger he has passed in the street, indifference and disappointment the dominant emotions in his expressive eyes. I close my eyes as I hear him leaving, trying to hold the inevitable tears back.

"Eva, allow me to bestow some fatherly advice: Life is not fair, and sometimes we have to do things that we don't like. Whether or not you like it, we are moving to Lima and there will be no discussion, no compromise. My word is final." His words, delivered in the clipped business like tone he reserves for the courtroom is like a slap in the face; completely empty of emotion. I press my lips tightly together; if I try to open my mouth all that will come out is a symphony of sobs. My pride is already demolished and my dignity is already in tatters; I cannot afford to embarrass myself further. He leaves and I curl up on my bed with silent streams of tears making pathways across my face.

This is all wrong. This isn't what was meant to happen: We were meant to decide that the Lima move was an awful idea and live happily ever after, not turn our townhouse into a warzone. Damn my temper, I've been a bitch and I know it but I didn't mean to make everyone in the house hate me with every fibre of their being: My mouth just ran away with me, as always. This is so unfair, and if I wasn't wallowing in the murky waters of self-pity I would see the humorous side of this: This morning my life was perfect, my parents adored me and so on and so forth. Now, my life is anything but perfect and my parents have every right to disown me or something. Grrr, I need to punch something; I grab a pillow from the head of my bed and punch it until I start to think clearly. Well as clearly as I can anyway seeing as my first thought was: 'Maybe I can blame it on my hormones'.

* * *

_**So there is it is, I am really excited about this story and how I can introduce the other McKinley alumni :) Plus, I think in about 2 or 3 chapters we'll be in Lima and the summer will be almost over. **_

_**What do we think of Eva? Garrick? And our beloved Klaine?**_

_**Lemme know what you think or if there is anything you'd like to see, or a particular character you want to pop up! :D **_

_**-Evie xx**_


	2. Reaching A Resolve

_**Hey, so I noticed that a lot of people are reading this story but not reviewing; so I'm here to add another chapter and hopefully change that. So we left with Eva in the midst of a nervous breakdown, Blaine pretty mad and Kurt on the way to chat to Garrick. So here goes, I present to you the AFTERMATH.**_

_**Warning: Blaine is not going to be a big ball of angst throughout, nor is he going to be so self-depreciating and dramatic. It's just the Daddy/Daddy's Girl dynamic can mess up a man's mind. I know because however bad it sounds, I have my Daddy wrapped around my little finger.**_

* * *

_**Garrick Hummel-Anderson.**_

I always knew Eva had a bit of a temper; she likes to scream and shout at me all the time, but I've learnt that is just something that chicks like to do. Especially round a particular time of month; but to hear her going completely psycho and chewing out B-Dad is definitely something new, I mean she practically God worships him usually. And some of the things she said were really cruel and totally uncalled for; if she weren't a chick I'd of stormed in there and punched her right in the face but she is and it's really wrong to hit a girl even if they're being a total nut-job. I mean, yeah, it sucks that we've gotta move and it was a pretty shitty thing for our Dad's to just spring it on us like that; but they are the 'adults' and however bad it might look right now, I know that they know best.

"Are you okay, G? What do you think about it all?" I look up from my Sports Illustrated and see K-Dad standing in my doorway, he's trying to smile but I notice that his eyes are glistening with unshed tears ; even though the girls are smoking hot I put the magazine down. Now I know everyone knows I might not be the brightest crayon in the box or the sharpest knife on the rack and that doesn't bother me really, because there are some things I'm better at; like sports, reeling in the ladies and weirdly enough, being pretty good when it comes to other people's emotions however 'emotionally stunted' people claim me to be. I just grin and wave K-Dad in, he comes over to sit at the end of the bed.

"Yeah, I'm good Dad. I mean I am gonna miss New York but I can always come back next year for college." Yeah, I might not understand quadratic equations or stuff like that but my Dad's always say I know the right thing to say to make them feel better; K-Dad looks relieved as if he was expecting me to throw a full-on fit like my little sis and I can't help but grin knowing that once again I hit the bull's-eye when it came to saying the 'right thing'. I mean, women always say they want a man who 'understands' them; I'm just doing my job.

K-Dad hands me a steaming mug of hot chocolate, which on any day is better than any of the crap you can pick up at café's; but it seems he's made a special effort tonight adding whipped cream, sprinkles and mini-marshmallows. I'm a simple man and my Dad's know that better than anyone else, this is K-Dad's way of apologising and I appreciate it more than a simple 'sorry' because you know, it like took time to make this and he made the extra effort to put on all the toppings. It's like the double pepperoni of apologies compared to a margarita. I take a long swig and sigh; it even tastes better than usual which is saying something, before putting it on my bedside table and pulling my Dad into a hug.

Yeah, loadsa guys might think it's pretty weird that I'm hugging my Dad like this; but K-Dad is a bit like a mom. I mean, he's like a man and he is probably the strongest man I know; from what I've hear he put up with a lot of pretty bad shit when he was younger and as they say 'he's still here to tell the tale'. But he does the 'mom' things like cooking and patching me up when I've done something a bit stupid and hurt myself so I treat him how I'd treat a mom if I had one and at times like this a mom would need a hug. Everyone knows people need hugs, they make you feel better; K-Dad just hugs me back and I think he might be crying, but like hugs people just need to cry every now and again.

"It's gonna be alright Dad, she'll calm down and go back to being the little angel again." K-Dad just nods into my shoulder and I rub his back. Eventually he pulls away and gives me a kiss on the forehead, I'm just glad he's smiling again. Kind of. I scrunch up my face and pretend to wipe away where he kissed me like a goofball, I grin when K-Dad starts to chuckle and I feel a little thump in my chest; it always feels good to make people feel better, specially one of my Dad's or even Eva when she's not being a bitch.

"When did you get so wise Garrick? I suppose you're right, I just wish Eva would be more mature like you about these things." I look down bashfully; I'll say it loud and say it proud, I'm a 'Daddy's Boy'. It's one of the things me and my bint of a sister have in common, we both love being praised by our rentals. But I know what Dad means, I might act like a dick and at times I think with my dick too but I know when to just sit back and take things on the chin; something Eva hasn't learnt yet however much she likes to blab on about how I'm so immature.

"I learnt for the best Dad's in the world, that's when and I know bout Eva. She can't let things go without a fight but what did you expect?" K-Dad just shrugs; he knew that something like this would probably happen. He probably thought it wouldn't be this bad but I've always said my sprog of a sister is as unpredictable as the weather most days. He reaches over to ruffle my hair and I let him do it, I know that I'm actually a bit pissed about this Lima thing but it's best to keep it to myself; my Dad's don't need another kid acting like a spoilt brat.

"I know what you mean, G. I suppose we'll just have to wait for Hurricane Eva to pass and then try to talk some sense into her." I can't help but think 'Good Luck' but I don't think that'll help the situation, so it's best to be quiet. I know that B-Dad is gonna need K-Dad tonight, he might've flipped his lid at Eva, but he's probably broken down by now and I don't wanna make it worse by saying that 'Hurricane Eva' is probably gonna be hanging round a while. Our Dad's may have 'won this battle' but like some dude in history said 'the war isn't over' or something like that; Eva's better at stuff like history anyway. I just make a non-committal noise, something I learnt from Auntie E, because I don't wanna lie to my Dad so I just keep my mouth shut.

We sit there in silence for a few minutes; K-Dad is probably thinking about things and I'm enjoying my hot chocolate. I mean, if Dad wants to talk then I'm ready to listen but one thing I've learnt from the chicks I've been with is that it's best to let someone come to you if they need anything and not try and butt in because that just makes you look 'presumptuous' or something like that; basically a douche. K-Dad looks at me, I'm not that good at talking without words like everyone else in the house; but I try my hardest to look like 'you can say whatever you want, I'm here for you'. I probably look like I've been kicked in the balls but K-Dad opens his mouth anyway.

"Do you think we're doing the right thing?" Oh shit, K-Dad looks like he's about to break down and I don't know what to say. K-Dad likes to act all strong and put together as if what people say don't affect him, but it does and I'm not dim enough to think that however I answer this question isn't gonna have major consequences. I don't think that any of Auntie E's 'diversion tactics' are gonna help. Think, Gaz, think; I put my hot chocolate back down and sit up properly.

"I think only you can answer that question, are the reasons for it valid?" I'm shocked, and by the way K-Dad's eyebrows disappear into his hairline, I'd say he was too. That was pretty damn surreal; I know that I'm not as good with words with as everyone else in the family but that was smart. I sounded like some kind of wise shrink, K-Dad just nods his head apparently lost in thought. I'm still reeling that something completely dumb didn't pop out of my mouth like I was expecting.

"You're right; your Dad wants to be able to spend more time with us. Going away for months on end is really tearing him apart. In Lima, we'll be together as a family." I don't think Dad is actually talking to me, he's more thinking out loud than anything so I just let him be, nursing my hot chocolate and eating the marshmallows which have started to go all gooey; just the way I like them. Pretty suddenly K-Dad stands up and brushes down his trousers and I end up spilling some of my hot chocolate down myself. He stands up straight and by the set of his jaw I can tell he's made up his mind. We're going to Lima, and nothing that Eva does will change that now; she can throw her fits and cry as much as she likes but when K-Dad makes up his mind there's no changing it. He strokes my forehead and smiles down at me.

"Thanks Garrick. Remember that I love you, we all love you and if you ever need anything; me and your Dad will always be there." I just nod my head, glad to have been able to help; but K-Dad didn't need to tell me that, I already knew. I might not be showered with affection like Eva, but I've never needed it to know that I'm special to my Dad's we both are and I know that everything they do and every decision they make has our best interests at heart; above their own.

"I love you two to, don't forget that. And so does the little idiot; she must just be PMSing or something; I'll have a word with her and make her realise she's being a total douche. So, night." K-Dad smiles at me before walking out, on the way out I hear him mumble something to himself before he shuts off the light. I roll over in bed and just take the time to think, even if some people think I don't have the brain power to do so; I've realised that if this is what my Dad's think is best, even if it might seem shitty at first, then I've got to trust them.

They would never do something to deliberately upset us unless they know that it's for the best; and yeah, I will miss New York. The babes, the shops, the sport and even the annoying hot dag man on 54th street; but family have got to come first, always. And that's what I think makes me a man, even if Eva likes to call me a little boy all the time, the fact I can see the 'bigger picture' and not think the world has got to revolve around me. A lesson that my dearest sister needs to learn pretty soonish, or else she's just gonna end up causing more problems than she's worth.

* * *

_**Blaine Hummel-Anderson.**_

I'm just sitting on our bed and staring at the wall when Kurt walks into the room. He takes one look at me, his cobalt eyes shine with an understanding that can only be forged from the years we have spent together; a love so deep it has overcome every obstacle. But in the gentle turning down of his lip I can see a sense of resignation; rather than coming to my side he goes into the en suite bathroom and locks the door. He can tell that right now, not even he can reach me; the immense power he holds over me isn't enough to pull me from the well of despair I find myself in.

I close my eyes and the haunting symphony of Eva's broken sobs invades my mind like a swarm of locusts before it's replaced of the image of her glaring at me, unbridled loathing glimmers in her amber eyes as she screams the words that were like an iron fist to my heart "I HATE YOU"; then that is replaced by the fear, the fear that I've somehow alienated my Princess; the undiluted terror that flashed in her eyes as I screamed at her. My little girl was petrified of me, that's not how it's meant to be; she's meant to come running to me when she's scared and it's my duty to protect her and I've failed.

But the worst thing is, I did it; I have torn her world apart, screamed at her and then left her broken. I snapped, my carefully constructed persona of calm crumbled and I wasn't in control of myself; it was like I was watching myself from across the room as my face twisted into an inhumane snarl, hearing as I spat out words like a vile acid. Anything could have happened and I couldn't have stopped it; I was a danger to my daughter, to my family and that makes me sick. I hear Kurt come back into the bedroom, his delicate musk of vanilla and sandalwood alerts me to his presence; I hear him opening and closing drawers as he gets ready for bed.

Kurt slides into bed and snuggles up to me, instinct dictates my actions as I pull him closer and his head comes to rest of my chest. I feel him tracing his velvet lips across my collarbone, but the feather light kisses don't elicit their usual response; I can't focus on Kurt when I'm caught in the midst of an internal battle, every fibre of my being is screaming for me to run into my little angel's room and ask for her forgiveness but I know that's the wrong thing to do. Eva was in the wrong, she needs to learn that she can't get away with being so disrespectful but I want her to know that I'd never hurt her and no matter what I say, I'd do anything for her.

Kurt's lips freeze and he trails the tip of his nose up my neck before pulling back to look into my eyes; his gaze sparkles with compassion and concern, but I have to avert my eyes. I hear Kurt's exasperated sigh, I open my mouth to apologise but Kurt just shakes his head an understanding smile lights up his exquisite face. I trail my fingers down his back, forcing a smile at the hum of contentment it provokes in my husband.

"It's okay; everything is going to be alright." I grimace at his empty reassurance, no it's not. I find it ironic that it's usually me that is eternally optimistic while Kurt is the 'realist' who is open to more negative outcomes. It seems that tonight has thrown everything off balance; I've turned from beloved father to monster and Kurt has some insane belief that everything is going to turn out fine. I lie down, nestling into the pillows and closing my eyes.

"How can you say that? You don't need to pretend you didn't hear her; she's hardly going to be singing our praises any time soon. I mean we've made our little girl hate us, maybe I was wrong. Maybe it would be better if we stayed here." I feel the weight of Kurt disappear as I open up about what's been on my mind since I left Eva's room, I open my eyes to find that he's staring down at me; his stare so loaded that I can't look away; he quirks an eyebrow.

"Blaine, you need to stop it. Yes, Eva is going to be storming around like Rachel on steroids; self-involved and pointing the finger at anyone that moves. But like Rachel, she needs to be put in her place every so often. Yes, I'm usually the one who has to remind her that this family is not the Eva show but tonight it was you and I know that you might feel bad but that is the world of parenting; sometimes our kids won't like us. Sometimes they'll scream and they'll shout, but they need to respect us and the decisions that we make. You need to think if the reasons why we're moving are good enough to go through with it."

I just blink as Kurt hovers above me; his eye like liquid steel and his voice sharp with conviction; I know him well enough to know that he's resolution is final. I suppose I've always been a tad lenient with Eva and Garrick, letting Kurt play the role of 'bad cop' while I was the parent who'd take them out and shower them with gifts and affection because more often than not I was the parent who wasn't there. The fact is that I want to be there for my kids, and if I do; then I'm going to have to start being a bit stricter. I just stare at Kurt in amazement, as always he has pulled through and managed to pull me from drowning in my own melancholy; even though I regret how I dealt with Eva, it's a necessary evil. It's something I need to learn; how to say no and to put my foot down when required.

"You're the smartest person I've ever met, Kurt Elizabeth and I'm the luckiest man in the world to be holding you in my arms. And in case I haven't told you today; I love you more than anything." I chuckle in delight as an adorable blush takes residence upon Kurt's sculpted cheekbones; his relief is palpable when he realises that I've resumed my usual 'dapper' demeanour. He leans forwards and catches my lips with his own.

Kissing Kurt is as easy as breathing; our tongues perform a flawless rhumba as our hands explore each other's bodies with unadulterated desire; caressing Kurt's narrow shoulders as he trails his fingers along my chest, eliciting a groan of pleasure as I feel my hands take a firm grasp on his hips. I pull away to catch my breath and run my hand across the expanse of his porcelain chest, studying every contour of his defined body with my finger tip. He purrs as he presses himself to me, teasing my neck with his teeth, before pulling back with a mischievous glint in his eyes. My husband, the tease.

"As I love you, but surprisingly it isn't me who's full of wisdom; that was all Garrick. He's growing up, and even if Eva is being childish it's obvious that she's becoming a young woman." Paternal pride wells up inside me; Garrick may have never been the most academically excellent student, but he was one the most astute people I had ever met and full of wisdom behind his years. And knowing that at least our son had faith in what we were doing reassured me that maybe our decision to move back to Ohio could be the best thing for our family. But as always, with the mention of our angels growing up, there is that fleeting thought that it's almost over and they'll be flying the nest soon. Kurt rolls off of me and snuggles into the crook of my neck.

"You know what? Maybe you're right; this is what could be best for us." I just turn so I'm face to face with Kurt; there is nothing more fulfilling than lying in bed next to the man you love. Staring into Kurt's mercurial blue eyes is like staring into a vast ocean with hidden depths; he is a diamond, strong and multi-faceted and I'm the luckiest man in the whole world. I stroke his back and smile when he snuggles closer to me and begins to trace elaborate patterns across my chest and I don't even try to supress my shiver; Kurt is well aware of every reaction he invokes in me, the potency of the spell he holds me under but I wouldn't have it any other way.

"I know, but it;s because I'm always right. Now let's get some sleep, I'm dreading whatever our little Princess could be planning for tomorrow." Kurt grins and I can't stop a similar expression appearing on my own face; Eva is spirited and we all know that she'll try every trick in the book to try and get us to stay in New York. As Kurt drifts off to sleep I place a chaste kiss against his forehead; I know what's best for my family and that is going to Ohio. Thanks to Kurt, my own resolve feels impenetrable and I believe that we're doing right by our family. And as I've always told the kids, family comes first even if it isn't the easiest option.

* * *

_**An exceptionally short chapter I know, but the next one is going to be MAJOR! In terms of plot and length; Eva is going to visit her Auntie Rachel and then there will be some negotiations around the dinner table. And then we're gonna jump forward to 'moving day' but don't worry Eva is gonna be more than a handful.**_

_**Lemme know your thoughts, review with anything you'd like to see or just constructive criticism.**_

_**Thanks for reading! An update for Best Foot Forwards is on its way later today! :D **_

_**-Evie xx**_


	3. Realisations and Requests

_**SORRY ABOUT HOW LATE THIS IS! I've been UBER busy but I'm back on the road to writing now and will be churning out updates like a bakery churns out doughnuts…**_

_**So back to the wonderful world of Eva Anderson-Hummel.**_

* * *

_**Eva Anderson-Hummel.**_

I'm practically petrified to go downstairs, actually I'm terrified to leave my bed because the fact is everyone will know I'm awake and I'm going to have to face some serious consequences for my outburst yesterday. Yes, now that I look back through lenses that aren't tinged with irrational rage or teenage angst I know that I acted like a serious bitch yesterday, more than a bitch actually but I don't think there is a word that can sum up how much of a complete and utter moron I was.

But however much of an idiot I was, I can't help but try and justify my actions by saying I kind of achieved my 'objectives' when I threw my bitch fit. I just didn't achieve them in a way that was mature or sophisticated in any way but at least I made it very clear that I don't want to leave my beloved New York to live in Loserville. And that point still stands, there has got to be a way to make everyone see it from my point of view without me looking like some kind of invalid; I could run away but if I'm being completely honest with myself I am not built to live on the streets, I enjoy my little luxuries far too much. I mean imagine how bad it would be not to have a hot shower constantly available, or my I-Pod; it's unimaginable.

I mean, my life currently resembles some horrific Picasso painting; everything is distorted and doesn't fit my perception of reality. Honestly, it wouldn't surprise me if they were all downstairs now condemning me to a life where I would die at 26 and be eaten by rabid Persian cats or something just as horrific; but what makes it worse is that I couldn't actually blame them if they were, I kind of deserve it. Why did all of this have to happen? I mean, usually I'd be sitting downstairs abusing Garrick and being fawned over by my Daddies but instead I'm hiding like a refugee who is about to be shipped off to a warzone. Whoever said change would do you good is literally a bare faced liar and they deserve to be shot or have something equally gruesome done to them, if it was a man I vote for castration.

Damn, why do I always let my mouth run away with me? Seriously, where's the filter between my brain and my mouth? I can't believe how much of a fool I was yesterday, it's like I was possessed and I know I should say sorry but I just can't. It is physically impossible even though I called my Dada to have a mental break, called Daddy a series of horrific names that I will never repeat and tried to maul my brother like a rabid Rottweiler in heat.

But to apologise is to swallow your pride and admit you're wrong and I would literally choke on the words; my actions were wrong but my motives are solid. Oh why this all so blooming confusing? Normally I'd have someone in my corner, to have my back but nope this time I'm on my own because in my fit of complete craziness I single handily managed to alienate everyone I live with. I should get a bloody medal. How would a mature young woman deal with this? They'd probably just face the music and then drown themselves in tears and copious amounts of ice cream. Now that sounds like a plan.

I climb out of bed and I'm shocked to see the state of my room; I knew it would be messy since I went all Carrie on the place but not even Stephen King could write a horror description for what I've done to the place. I've mutilated it beyond recognition, the floor is covered in what seems to be everything I own and the remains of my jewellery box are just scattered across the floor like I took a jackhammer to it. Do I even want to look in my wardrobe? If it's anywhere near the state of my desecrated room I will actually cry, my clothes are genuinely worth thousands and most of them are by designers.

Either way I have no choice, if I'm going to be facing the firing squad downstairs you can be sure as Hell that I'm gonna look good doing it. I scrunch my eyes shut as I throw the door to my walk in wardrobe open; when I open my eyes I actually scream, it looks like the scene of a fashion crime with all my marvellous clothes thrown haphazardly across the floor and when I see that I've taken the scissors to some things I almost spontaneously combust. Thankfully, once I've checked everything I can see that my wave of destruction isn't as bad as it seems; all my designer labels and my one-off's are safe. Well, they were just thrown around a bit but they haven't been destroyed beyond recognition which isn't the same for my high street labels. They look like they've had an unfortunate encounter with a serial killer.

20 minutes later finds me standing in front of my mirror, I know that it is pivotal that I get this look absolutely perfect. I've pushed my hair back with a hairband, leaving my curls natural since I know my Daddies love it; I've used a smudge of white eyeliner with lavender eye shadow to make my eyes look bigger so I can pull out my 'Doe Eyes' if necessary. A little bit of blush, I mean nobody can be angry with someone that has rosy cheeks.

As for the outfit I've gone with pastel colours, thank God and all his buddies that I've gotten the perfect olive skin to pull it off; a pale lemon summer dress with a tangerine cardigan and ankle boots, Daddy will appreciate the fact I'm en pointe fashion wise and Dada won't be able to resist that right now I'm personifying 'Daddies Little Angel'. Garrick will think I look like a walking citrus fruit but I could care less what he thinks, it's time to face the firing squad and if I will look good and I will hold my head up high. With this renewed sense of confidence I strut out of my room.

Unfortunately, my 'confidence' vanishes as soon as I'm standing at the top of the stairs and can hear the symphony of my family's voices drifting upwards; they're laughing and joking around like nothing happened. Is that a good or bad thing? I ease myself down the stairs, trying as hard as possible to be as silent as possible; it may be the cowards way out but I'm just gonna run for the door when I get to the bottom of the stairs. But I don't wanna waltz into the kitchen and be the cause of awkward silences and the subject of disapproving looks, I'd much rather enjoy my day as much as possible and face the rentals later. I'm at the bottom of the stairs and practically ready to sprint towards my freedom when fate decides to intervene and drop kick me right in the face.

"Oi Midget Bridget, breakfasts ready. Hurry up, I'm practically wasting away." Great, this is just wonderful. Literally the whole house is blanketed in silence, I've never been adverse to the spotlight; in fact I'll hold my hands up and admit that I love attention. No I crave attention, just not this particular type of attention; this is more like when people find out that someone is riddled with STI's and they just openly stare, not even bothering to disguise their ogling. Let me tell you something, this 2 second walk into the kitchen is like walking the Green Mile and do you wanna know what that means? No happy ending. I keep my eyes on the floor, but I can practically feel their unwavering stares burning holes into the top of my head.

"Good morning everyone." I literally cringe at the sound of my own voice. Note to self: NEVER try to force cheerfulness; it sounds like you're trying to talk with a mouth full of sour lemons. To try and avoid further embarrassment I hurry to grab a bowl of porridge and throw myself into a seat, ladylike mannerisms be damned; I just want out of this house as soon as physically possible, even if that means pulling a Garrick and practically inhaling my food. After a few moments there is a general chorus of 'Good mornings' from my family, and it doesn't take a genius to hear my own forced jollity mirrored in each of their tones. This is the definition of awkward.

"So Garrick, do you wanna run and grab those sneakers today?" I don't even bother to try and conceal my sigh of relief; the awkward silence was practically suffocating me. Daddy's attempt to bring some kind of normality to the breakfast table is something I appreciate, not that I don't note how I was completely excluded in the conversation but you win some and then you win some more, but eventually lose some. Since I had a minor breakdown yesterday, I'll let Garrick have the attention for once. I chance a glimpse at Dada to see his eyes firmly fixed on the newspaper in his hand and his lips pressed into a firm line; he's eyes aren't even moving so it's blatantly obvious that he's ignoring me and I get a strange feeling as if I've been karate chopped right in the gut.

He can't even force a smile in my general direction; Dada always greets me in the morning with one of his smiles that makes his eyes glow and well makes me feel like his little girl. But right now, I just feel like I'm sitting at a table with a bunch of complete strangers who'd like nothing less than for me to just vanish. I feel tears prick my eyes like miniscule lances, and I look back down to my porridge; I will not cry, I will not let them know their little 'cold shoulder' trick is working.

"Yeah, that'll be cool. I wanna check out the new Giants jersey too, plus I've run out of deodorant..." For once in my life I could hug my oaf of a brother even if he's blabbering on about complete rubbish, he successfully diverts the attention from my inevitable hysteria. Deep breathes, I must be calm and composed; I note Dada is smiling over at Garrick while Daddy is nodding his head and tapping away at his phone, probably making a shopping list. Just like every other day, apart from the fact that I'm usually involved in the sense that I'm having things brought for me and Dada is smiling at me as though I'm the second coming of the Messiah. Eventually Daddy turns to look at me, his 'professional' smile fixed in place; a smile he reserves for pretentious clients who he'd rather slap than acknowledge. Great.

"So what are your plans for today Eva?" I don't know whether to cry or roll my eyes. It's obvious that he's only asking me because he feels like he has to, my parents are nothing but polite and I suppose that 'social etiquette' dictates that they have to ask everyone some stupid question in the morning. Psssh, I'm kinda miffed that they're only talking to me because they have to; yes, I had a tiny moment of lapsed insanity but I didn't commit a capital crime. It's not as though I like shot anyone or started Nuclear Warfare, but for once I manage to think before I speak and I suppose if they're making the effort; or more specifically, Daddy Kurt, I should return the favour.

"Nothing really, I'm probably going to see Auntie Rach and see whatever happens. Probably grab some frozen yoghurt in Central Park." My Daddies just nod along as though they've dislocated their necks and Garrick is wolfing down some concoction that I think may include eggs, orange juice and a lot of bacon. They just make non-committal noises, I mean by the looks of things I could've told them I was going to throw myself off of the Empire State Building and they would've nodded along as though I'd made some passing and totally irrelevant comment about the July weather.

Once again the table falls into silence, there shouldn't be gaps in the conversation and it is glaringly noticeable that I am the cause of the problem; the figurative elephant in the room. I mean they were all nattering on like a bunch of gossiping old biddies until I strolled in and the atmosphere snapped into one more fitting to the funeral of a close family friend. Right now, I am getting less and less upset by this whole situation and in its place I am getting angrier and angrier. Damn hormones. But why should I not be angry? They felt okay completely crushing my life like a house of cards so I may as well just let them know how I feel.

"Well since you were having such a splendid bloody time before I came in, I might as well go. I mean, I am going and I bet you're not going to miss me." Verbal diarrhoea results in instant regret. Once again I feel like some freaking Demon has decided to set up shop in my body; Garrick is staring at me like I'm a gun wielding maniac, Daddy's eyebrows are raised and Dada is death glaring me. Daddy is meant to be the one who dishes out death glares, but I haven't got time to sit around and worry about it. I storm from the kitchen like a woman on a mission; mission being to escape this blooming house, I snatch my coat and bag from the rack and then throw the door wide open. Just as I slam the door I hear Dada's voice raised in apparent anger.

"What is wrong with that girl?" I flinch like it was a physical blow; I've pissed Dada off again, that's twice in like less than 16 hours which is unheard of. In fact, up until the travesty that was last night I had never made Dada raise his voice or anything. Literally, what is wrong with me? I can only blame the hormones for so long although there is a distinct possibility that I might be due on soon, I might have to pop into a church and schedule a quick exorcism or something.

See, I always manage to 'think' when I'm on my own and after I've made a complete fool of myself in front of everyone else. Life is unfair, but like all people destined for stardom I must face my adversity head on in hopes of overcoming it and becoming a better person. Well at least I can try and make that crap sound like some kind of silver lining to this stupendously crappy situation; and on that note, I button my coat up and I'm on my way to see Auntie Rachel.

She is the only person, who can fix this whole mess; I mean she came to New York, she conquered and she turned around some awful Broadway show and has more Tony Awards than well anyone else I can name from the top of my head. I mean she is the one person I have complete faith that she'll be able to convince my Daddies of their evident lunacy in wanting to drag me to the middle of the country; I mean if anyone knows how important it is to be in New York, it is Auntie Rachel. She lives and breathes this city, I mean Daddy loves this place but when it comes to me and my Aunt; this is our Mecca; it is practically an inherited gene from when she was Daddies surrogate.

* * *

My Aunt's house has always made me just stop and stare, it's magical; Rachel's house just radiates that New York glamour, technically it isn't any different from my own house. But her three story townhouse is painted white and somehow remains completely unblemished; it literally emits a pearlescent glow constantly. When I was younger I thought it was because my Auntie was a star and her house shone like her and that never changed; Rachel isn't just my birth mother or my auntie or even my Daddies' best friend, she's like my ultimate confidante and the one person who can relate to me even when my self-obsessed and slightly crazed 'alter-ego' comes out to play. She gets me, my love for New York and my unrivaled ambition to succeed at whatever I put my mind to.

Okay, I've just realised that I'm standing here and staring at the house; that has got to give an awful impression that I'm some psychotic stalker or something which is not the impression I really want to make. I totter up and knock on the door, practically gagging to throw myself at my Auntie and have reassure me that no matter what I won't be leaving New York; as the door opens I spring forward and almost collide with my cousin Leonard, or half-brother if we're being technical. To say he looks a little scared would be an understatement, but I guess it isn't every day that your potentially crazed cousin practically jumps you.

"Hey Eva, you seem a bit flustered today" Leo manages to shake himself back into reality and smiles as he helps take my coat and hangs it up on the coat rack, the fact that he didn't run for his life is testament that he's grown up around me and my slightly theatrical tendencies. Actually, his comfort around the absurd probably stems from having a Theatre Goddess as a mother; I look around trying to find my Auntie because I am not 'flustered', I need her to come and effectively fix my life which however crude it sounds is seemingly haemorrhaging everywhere as if it were a patient in a bad sitcom based in a hospital.

"Before you ask, she's upstairs in the rehearsal studio and before she asks… I'm gonna be watching baseball." Another reason Leonard is a gem, he can practically read minds or maybe I'm just transparent and the only ever reason I'm here is to talk to Rachel; I pull him into a hug either way and literally have to look up to look at his face. Damn, I'm almost two years older than him but somehow he's over a foot taller; it makes no sense seeing that his mom is as vertically challenged as I am. It must come from his father, whoever that may be; for some reason whenever 'he' is mentioned everyone gets a bit on edge. Knowing Rachel, Leonard was probably conceived from a brief but breath taking love affair.

My cousin seemed a bit flabbergasted at first but eventually I feel his arms wrap around me and I swear to Streisand herself that I'm about to cry; seriously, Leo and I are hardly the closest people on the plant due to 'differences of interest' but he's family and due to plan 'We're Moving To Lima' I'm never going to get the chance to get closer to him. No, I must remain composed and remain in control over my emotions because it would probably make Leo feel exceptionally awkward plus I would prefer saving them for my herbal tea and sympathy with my Auntie.

"Thanks Leo. I might not tell you this enough but I do love you and I will miss you but remember that I'll always be in your heart." Okay that sounded melodramatic to even me, but I must express myself; I mean, I may never physically see him again. Yes there are E-mails and Skype but knowing my luck Lima might prefer more 'primitive' forms of communication such as bird calls and smoke signals. Leo just pats my shoulder and swans off leaving me at the foot of the stairs, I watch him disappear around the corner before I walk up the stairs.

I can't help but smile as I hear Rachel's voice floating down the corridor, bathing in her flawless talent is more than enough to ease the weird pain in my chest for now; every note is pitched to perfection and the clarity of her voice cuts through the silence like a bell. That is why I can't leave New York, if I stand any chance of being half as good as Rachel; I need to be here, the training ground for the future stars of the stage. Eventually I push open the door and slide into the room, smiling at the mirrored walls; the wooden flooring and the baby grand where my Aunt sits playing through a series of scales.

"Eva it is great to see you." Rachel smiles when she sees me standing there, her face splitting into an enormous smile; so similar to Dada's that I almost collapse under my grief. At least someone is happy to see me, she practically dances over to me with a grace rivalled by only Daddy and wraps her arms around me and then I'm crying. No, I'm sobbing hysterically but Rachel's hugs are mini miracles and while she coos into my ear I kind of calm down although I'm still whimpering like a kicked puppy.

You see, I have all the parental love a child could ask for from my Daddies and I've never needed a 'mom' since Rachel's always been there but she won't be in Lima and a girl needs a hug from a female role model every now and again. It's something that no man can do, not even gay Dads can emulate it and I won't be getting any of it for a long time coming if my delusional parents get their way. Soon afterwards Rachel pushes me back, holding me at arm's length and just smiling; I manage to arrange my features into a smile too.

"Have you heard what they're trying to do?" Most people would skirt around the edges of an issue, hiding behind pleasantries and such but not me. Outrage colours my tone, seriously I'm going to have to do something about these irrational bursts of rage, but it's okay because I know that Rachel is the one person who will share said outrage and rally with me to make them all see sense. But when the corner of her mouth drops ever so slightly I deflate like a balloon; I can practically taste her pity, smell the sadness. Well at least I know the answer to the question.

"I have, and from what I've heard Eva you didn't handle it too well. I must say I understand why you're upset, but you need to always remember that being a diva is not about throwing hissy fits; it's about harnessing and then expressing the well of emotion inside." My shoulders slump in defeat, while Rachel doesn't sound mad or disappointed her tone holds a sense of finality. It's like I'm constantly running into a brick wall or something, I have no allies on this battlefield it seems.

"I know, but they're trying to take me away from New York. They can't Auntie Rach, you've got to stop them." Goodbye dignity, hello desperation; I know in my head that I sound like some whinging child but I really don't want to go and to take the risk of sounding like some angst ridden teenager: This is so not fair. Rachel smiles, and I see something in her eyes but I can't really tell what it is. She walks over and sits at the piano before looking back with her eyebrow raised.

"There's only one thing to do in a time like this." I can't help but smile, there is only ever one thing me and Rachel do when it comes to our problems and that is to sing about it; music is the expression of the soul and all that jazz and in my eyes there is nothing more satisfying than baring your soul alongside a Broadway Legend. I stroll over as Rachel's fingers nimbly glide across the piano's keys.

"So what are we singing this time then?" Rather than answering, Rachel nods towards some sheet music on a stand; I walk over and pick it up smiling when I realise that the whole concept of us moving must be upsetting Rachel. The faltering as she plays through a series of chords that I've heard so many times I can't remember; a song about loss, fear, love and every other confused feeling anyone could ever have about the whole fandango. 'A House Is Not A Home' by Luther Vandross, a true classic that I can barely listen to without bursting into tears; a song which is more than suitable for becoming my lament to New York.

I see tears glistening in Rachel's eyes as she plays through the introduction yet again, she looks at me with a sad smile on her face. A smile that speaks a thousand words; I love New York but even if I stayed it wouldn't be home, not without Dada or Daddy or even Garrick. As the music swells I can see it, my selfishness; my blindness and I can feel acceptance burning in my chest. Family must always come first, even before New York. The introduction is coming to an end and Rachel nods towards me, this time I'm taking the lead.

**Eva:**

_A chair is still a chair  
Even when there's no one sittin' there  
But a chair is not a house  
And a house is not a home  
When there's no one there to hold you tight  
And no one there you can kiss goodnight  
Woah girl_

**Rachel:**_  
A room is a still a room  
Even when there's nothin' there but gloom  
But a room is not a house  
And a house is not a home  
When the two of us are far apart  
And one of us has a broken heart  
_

**Eva/Rachel:**_  
Now and then I call your name  
And suddenly your face appears  
But it's just a crazy game  
When it ends, it ends in tears  
_

**Eva:**_  
Pretty little darling, have a heart  
Don't let one mistake keep us apart  
I'm not meant to live alone  
Turn this house into a home  
When I climb the stairs and turn the key  
Oh, please be there  
Sayin' that you're still in love with me, yeah  
_

**Eva/Rachel:**_  
I'm not meant to live alone  
Turn this house into a home  
I climb the stairs and turn the key  
Oh, please be there, still in love  
I said, still in love, still in love with me, yeah_

As the final notes play out I feel a strange sense of catharsis, as if I'm finally beginning to let go of everything; 'seeing the bigger picture' as some would say. I don't want to be in New York if I can't have my goodnight kiss from Dada, the stern glare from Daddy or even Garrick's stupidity. Because that's what is my home, even the 'flaws' I see in my family are integral to my life and without them I wouldn't have much of a life. Rachel just watches me, an affectionate smile on her face; staying silent and letting me mull over my little realisation.

"I'm really going to miss this place." I break the silence, and it's true; New York has been my life for 15 years but it seems that all I'll have for now are memories. Acceptance, not resignation is what motivates me. Hey, I mean maybe I could use my time in Lima as a social experiment and have a thesis published 'My Life Amongst the Neanderthals'; I laugh a little and Rachel moves to give me a hug.

"New York will always be here, but right now you need your family. You're a lot like me Eva, and that isn't a bad thing: You're driven, and you're so talented. Even better than I was at your age but Lima isn't just a small town, you'll learn so much about yourself; it'll change you in ways you never imagined and when you come back you'll miss the place. The people, I do." I listen as Rachel drifts of onto some other plane, blatantly nostalgic about her days in Lima.

Would I look on my days in Lima as fondly, sad but smiling? I doubt it, but I won't know until I've been there and all artists take risks and it seems that I'm about to take this particular risk. I chew my lip as Rachel stares into the distance, her eyes glazed as she reminisces about the past and I know her well enough to know this isn't something being done for dramatic effect; maybe I should try and lighten the situation.

"Daddy always says your voice is like a fine wine, it gets better with age but listening to it for too long can give you a headache." Rachel laughs and pulls me into a hug once she's arrived back from whatever planet she was vacationing on. I don't agree though, I'd pay to listen to Rachel sing all day long; in fact people do but Daddy has always been the one to derail Rachel's Diva Express and is more than happy to throw in a sarcastic barb or funny analogy.

"That's definitely something Kurt would say isn't it? Now before we get all weepy, remember New York is always here Eva. School holidays or even long weekends, you know I'd always be happy to have you stay and I'm sure your Dads wouldn't mind sparing a few of their air miles; Plus, it's probably inevitable that I'll end up visiting Lima. You can never escape it for too long." The last sentence definitely implied something, but I know what she means. Yesterday I threw a fit like none has seen before, cut into everyone with vicious words and what has it achieved? Nothing. I mean, it seems so simple; coming to New York and seeing Rachel. Rachel and Leo visiting us in Lima. I'd been so self-obsessed.

"I've got to go and apologise. I'll phone you soon." In true diva style I practically run from the house. See, going to see my Aunt always works out in the end; even if it means me having to realise that I was acting a Grade A douche. But it's okay, I can survive Lima and then I come to New York; it's really as simple as the ABC's but right now I've got to make it right, I need to tell everyone I'm sorry. I need to declare my final admittance of defeat and I need to start getting enthused about the upcoming move, which is the one thing I think I might still struggle with. But silver lining? This might be me getting thrown to the sharks, I'll admit it, but I sure as Hell better be getting some serious karma points for this.

* * *

Deep breathes, you are calm like Barbados' blue ocean; you are calmer than a yoga freak listening to their dolphin sounds. You will not die, you just have to go in and apologise and order will be restored. When I left Rachel's I was pumped up and ready to wave goodbye to New York, and I kind of still am but really it's not as if I can stroll in there like a Von Trapp and everything will be fine; I was being bitch, but that doesn't mean I want to admit I was being a bitch. I know I'm too stubborn for my own good, and I don't want to face their wrath; I just wanna be the angel that they thought I was. Sometimes I hate my life, like now when I feel like I'm going to die.

But I am a smart cookie, it's impossible to be the daughter of a lawyer without picking up some tricks of the trade. So here I am, holding a boxed of delicious baked goodness from my Daddies favourite patisserie and the biggest bouquet of daffodils, purple hyacinth and white chrysanthemums; hand selected to say 'I'm Sorry' the connotations will probably be lost on Dada; Daddy will definitely appreciate the effort.

Yes, I am definitely aware that I look like some adulterous husband crawling back to his wife with his tail between his legs but I've got a lot to apologise for and hopefully this will soften them up for when I bring up the topic of 'negotiations'. It's time to bite the bullet, like a band aid and all that rubbish; what's the worst that could happen? They throw my apology back in my face and banish me to my room, I mean they'd never lay a finger on me, they've always been advocates for the 'disappointed act' or the silent treatment and they'd never hit me. That I know for a fact, no matter what I did. Too late to look back now, my key is officially in the door.

When I get inside I am practically hyperventilating, it gets even worse because I can hear everyone laughing in the lounge. Now or never, I walk into the living room and it is like a repeat of this morning. Silence, everyone is looking at me and same as earlier: I might love attention, just not this particular kind. I walk in and place my gifts on the table mechanically before standing in front of everyone. Time to try the 'silver lining' thing; at least I don't have to find everyone individually; that also means I've to face their displeasure all at once. Whoever said the world is balanced was obviously on crack.

"Yes Eva?" Daddy Kurt is inspecting the flowers, the smile on his face must mean that he understands that I'm here to try and patch things up; Dada is rifling through the pastries, looking a little confused. The fact Daddy Kurt is smiling though is enough to give me the burst of confidence to actually speak rather than stand around like an invalid. I clear my throat, everyone's eyes are on me but right now they aren't looking at me like I'm a bomb about to explode. Here goes nothing.

"First of all I want to apologise for being a menace, everything I said and did was out of blind rage and I want you all to know I love you more than anything, even if Garrick is nothing but a nuisance. I love you more than New York and I couldn't imagine life here without you, you are my home and I realise that now; I stand before you humbled by my realisation and begging your forgiveness." Seriously, that did not sound so stupid or overly flamboyant in my head; but I think by the way Daddies look at one another before looking at me with soft gazes, that it kind of got the message across. That wasn't hard at all, and then I feel my demonic hormones making themselves known; literally, how long will I have to put up with this?

Next thing I know I'm sandwiched between my Daddies crying my heart out and screaming about how I'm an awful daughter and I don't deserve such wonderful parents. Why am I always so over dramatic unintentionally? Either way, the tension seems to have evaporated while they coo over me. Really is it that simple? Have I gone back to being their little angel solely because I've had what may or may not be a mini nervous breakdown? I'm finally able to stop crying after about 15 minutes of my parents fussing over me and Garrick rolling his eyes at what he would call my theatrics. I can't help it; I'm an emotionally driven person.

"It's okay Honey Bee, we know you're sorry. It's okay, don't cry Princess." The fact that Dada has forgiven me so easily sets me off again. This is genuinely starting to really peeve me off, if I'm not storming around in a teenage rage then I am crying like a complete fool. I practically throw myself at Dada and hug him so tightly that I may or may not have cut off his circulation but he doesn't seem to mind at all. He's stroking my hair and everything just feels right; Daddy has gone to make hot chocolate, the special kind that involves whipped cream and mini marshmallows.

Order is restored, kind of. Daddy comes back in and we all sit around, once again the poster for the perfect family; well perfect family with gay parents but that is completely off point. Dada keeps patting my head and giving me plenty of his 'special' smiles to compensate for the lack this morning and Daddy has had nothing but praise for my outfit, my maturity in realising that I was in the wrong, the pastries I'd selected and even the flowers in which he went on a tangent about how the colours of the flowers provide different meanings and how I'd chosen the perfect combination to represent my heartfelt apologies. Garrick is watching sport and firing off inappropriate comments about the cheerleaders and when he's not doing that he is throwing offensive comments at me but in Garrick Land that passes as affection.

"I'm so glad everything is back to normal, I hate arguing with my little Princess." Dada ruffles my hair, his topaz eyes glimmering with optimism which is how it always is. Shizzle, I am such a bad person; Daddy Kurt catches my eye and raises an eyebrow. See, why can't Dada be as astute as Daddy? I mean it would spare me having to be the bearer of bad news. I really don't wanna do this, but I've got on board with this whole Lima fiasco but that doesn't mean I don't have a few requests to put forward; to help me assimilate to life in Ohio, I mean for all we know the culture shock could kill me. Daddy is giving me the 'speak now or forever hold your peace' glare. Great, it's down to me to go and make everything awkward again; I better get some divine reward one day for all of this.

"Actually, I have a few requests of sorts; well not requests more of points of negotiation regarding this whole moving across the country with no apparent reason thing. Which I'm not disputing anymore, although I'm still unsure why; I mean if you're happy, then I'm fine with it but I've just thought of some things which would make me even happier in Lima." Cue awkward silence. I look around, Dada looks thoughtful; Garrick is rolling his eyes and Daddy gestures for me to go on. I mean, they're not unreasonable requests and they could be viewed as a form of 'compensation' for the trauma associated with moving cross-country but I'm keeping that little tidbit up my sleeve in case of an emergency.

"Well, I'll you tell you them all at once so that you can consider them as I go along and I'll justify them and stuff. I mean, I don't need them all but I think it'd help with coming to terms with you know, Lima. Now, ideally I'd have a room with an en suite; as the only girl I have certain problems that require me to use the bathroom more and before you comment Garrick I'm not going on about my period I'm on about my moisturising routine. I mean, Daddy has one too and if we share a bathroom then no one else will ever be able to go because we'll constantly be there. Plus, Garrick hasn't heard of putting the toilet seat down."

My first request, I mean I don't need to add that air freshener must be unheard of in Garrick's case and that is not something I want to revisit; that one week last year when my toilet was broken truly was enough to last a lifetime. See starting small and kind of reasonable; Daddies share a look and when Dada shrugs his shoulders I think it's a certain thing but for all I know houses in Lima don't have en suites. They may have cess pools or something, but Gradaddy Burt has a room with an en suite. Oh I'll just end up confusing myself.

"Yeah so next thing is, I think we should get a pet. I know you've vetoed this idea time and time again but circumstances have changed, Lima has more 'open spaces' and derelict buildings which is beside the point. A kitten or a puppy, I mean there would be places to walk it and it could keep me company because I have no friends there." Yes, like every child I always wanted a pet but Daddy had put his foot down and point blank refused; tears ensued but eventually I'd accepted the fact but when we're in Lima excuses such as 'there isn't enough places to walk a dog' are null and void.

Personally, I think that there are enough places in NY; Central Park for example but Daddy was very stubborn about this. Daddy opens his mouth, presumably to shoot the idea down yet again, but I have to stop myself physically jumping for joy when Dada holds up his hand to stop him. He turns to look at me, his face sterner than usual but his eyes are still shining happily. Oh My God, I already have names chosen depending on if it's a kitten or a puppy and the breed. Even Garrick turns away from the TV to listen, he probably only wants a pet seeing as it would be the only thing near his pitiful level of intelligence.

"Eva, if we get you a pet it would be yours and Garrick's responsibility. And that's only an if, Eva and you too Garrick don't get your hopes up. This is something me and your Dad need to talk about this before any decisions are made." I catch Garrick's eye who wink, he knows as well as I do that if they'll 'consider it' then it's a sure thing. So I can't help but smile like an escaped lunatic; Daddy doesn't look too happy but you win some and you lose some. I lost my life in New York and now I've won my very first pet apart from fish but they don't count.

"Well that's basically it; I'll need you to arrange dance lessons with a reputable teacher, we'll have to continue with my vocal tuition and you can do that. I'll need a rape alarm and mace, I don't know how these boys are in Ohio but if one comes too close I wanna be able to defend myself. Oh, maybe I'll go to some self-defence classes too. Gym membership, a lock on my bedroom door or a ban on Garrick bringing any of his little skanks home because I will not have them waltzing into my bedroom again. Oh, designated family time no matter how long we have to work. A metro pass so I can get somewhere with a proper mall, because me and Daddy still need to go shopping…That's it I think. No, one more thing and this is the most important and is non-negotiable. Under no circumstances do I want to be in the prolonged presence of Chris; yes, he's my cousin, but he is also the most repugnant being I have EVER had the misfortune of meeting."

Okay, maybe a little overboard on my character assassination of my cousin but he makes my skin crawl. I mean Dada and Daddy share a glance, Garrick even mutters a little 'Amen'. Feels great to have gotten all of that off of my chest, it doesn't even seem like I'm asking for much; like I'm genuinely trying to embrace my inner 'Ohio girl' by asking for and expecting the bare minimum.

Everyone is silent for a while, probably going over my little list if the plethora of looks my Daddies are shooting at one another; one of the few things that irk me about my Daddies is their ability to hold a complete conversation without even saying a word, so until they've made up their minds I'll be none the wiser. Eventually Dada turns and however much he tries to remain 'unreadable' he may as well have given me a wink and told me that I was getting everything I wanted. I look to Daddy who just rolls his eyes and gives me a smile.

"I'm going to make dinner now, tomorrow we'll arrange everything properly. House viewings are arranged for the end of July, we'll be staying with Grandpa Burt until our new house is ready and Eva, well done; I knew you'd have something up your sleeve, but I was wrong. Nothing you asked for is too unreasonable." Huh? We're moving when? Like if they're viewing houses in July we'll be moving in like August which is about 5 weeks away. Shizzle, that's pretty close. No, Eva you have accepted this upcoming move and you will not have any form of a break down over this news; smile at Daddy and then sit down.

"I've got a list of requests too…" Oh God no, Garrick's requests? That is something I do not want to see, hear or be in any way affiliated with: A lifetime supply of condoms? Or something else crude or related to food or sport. Daddy just rolls his eyes, well we're the way our Daddies raised us and we were raised to ask for what we want.

"Make a list then, but if it's anything about sex, drugs or rock'n'roll then it is automatically vetoed and not up for discussion." Daddy waltzes off into the kitchen to make what will be some fabulous home mad food, I'm lying with my head in Dada's lap as he goes through a pile of paperwork and once again Garrick is paying so much attention to the sport on TV that he wouldn't notice if there was an Earthquake. Seems normal, for now; but the thing is, this shizzle has just got real. We're moving to Lima, soon.

* * *

**There we go, very Eva-centric but that'll change! **

**Next chapter we're saying bye to NY and making the move to Lima…**

**Klaine will find their 'perfect' house…**

**Decisions about schools will be made (I'm leaning towards McKinley)**

**Eva gets her pet.**

**Garrick meets the female version of him.**

**But now I have a question for you… With Eva going to school do you think she'd be a mean girl Cheerio? Or a wallflowerish girl?**

**Plus, who else from the Glee family would you like to see make appearances? **

**Reviews muchly appreciated :)**

**-Evie xxx**


End file.
